In Between
by cause.A.scene
Summary: Sheppard's having a bit of an out-of-body experience. Now if he could only find his way out of it. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **In Between  
**Author: **causeAscene  
**Warning: **Alright, I'm going to warn you guys ahead of time: this is a **character study. **It's not extremely exciting, and follows John's thougths and journey in a very awkward and difficult situation. It's wordy. So, if you have the time to read (a lot) about how I feel John would react in such a situation, then be my guest and I hope you enjoy. Other than that, a few bad words but nothing you wouldn't hear on the show.  
**Summary:** There is life, there is death, and then there is something in between. And John Sheppard was stuck in it.  
**Thanks: **_sandgnat _and _Ruffles, _both of which really improved this story. And to the movie _The Invisible _for the idea.  
**Disclaimer: **They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them for a little while.

Alrighty, if you're still on board, please enjoy

**In Between - Chapter I**

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_Sheppard could feel his body breaking under the pressure of dozens of hands, feet, and various other objects. He tried to fight, and had even held his own for quite a while, but there were too many. There were just too many people, too much pain. Even for him._

_He was becoming less and less aware of his body but was sure he was curled up on his side, his hands over his head, bracing himself for as much as possible. The smell of dirt mixed with blood assaulted his senses and the sickening sound of bones crunching and snapping coincided with the different waves of pain that wreaked havoc on his constantly deteriorating body. _

_John knew he shot at least three of his assailants, but more kept coming. Punching, kicking, tearing and ripping until his weapons were gone. Until he stopped trying to fight back and stopped moving altogether. This was not how he wanted to die; cowering on the ground as he was beaten to death by a group of punks. He hadn't even started the fight nor had the planet been an entire bust. Nope. He had simply been walking back to the 'gate when the group jumped him; that was it. But it didn't matter. Here he was, regardless of what he had done or what had led him here. _

_The beating didn't stop. Would it ever, he wondered, or would he die before they decided he was pounded into enough of a pulp?_

_The pain had been fierce before, but now, he was losing the ability to feel it. It probably wasn't a good sign, but he didn't care anymore. There was no getting out of this one. No miracles, not this time; this is where it was going to end. And since that was the case, he preferred to not be in pain as he took his last breaths._

_He was vaguely aware of loud, obtrusive sounds and bright lights. Why couldn't it just end? He was ready. It wasn't worth it. His team was fine, he knew that. He had done his job and now his time was over. He could accept that._

"_Sheppard!" someone shouted close to him. He then felt hands on him, but they were not there to hurt, but to comfort. "Come on, Sheppard, hold on…" He knew that voice; someone he knew well. McKay? Over the next few minutes - or few hours, he couldn't be sure - John heard who he thought was McKay talk and plead with him. "You can't die now. Just…hold on. Okay? Help is on the way." _

_John listened to McKay and while all sounds slowly faded away, he heard McKay's desperate plea. Every inch of him wanted to fade away, but a small part of him held on to life, clung to it, while the rest of him let go._

_oOo_

John's eyes snapped open and he sat up so suddenly, he almost toppled out of his bed. He could feel his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, apparently trying to escape from his body.

What a nightmare… not that nightmares were rare for John Sheppard. He usually ended up watching his team endure torture, while he sat perfectly fine. Or seeing Ford, always out of his reach. Or Elizabeth telling him to leave her behind on the Replicator planet. Now that scenario plagued John's dreams all too often as of late.

But this dream was so different and so very real. It was like he could remember the pain and the panicked thoughts and finally giving up as the fists overwhelmed his ravaged body. Yet here he was, in his bed on Atlantis, feeling foolish for getting worked up over a nightmare. He looked around his room and saw that it was still shadowed in darkness, indicating that the sun had yet to rise.

He ran his hands over his face, letting them linger on his eyes, before stretching his arms over his head. That's when it hit him; he felt amazing. He felt completely rested, no headache or any other pain that he could think of. He wasn't hungry, nor was he hot or cold. He felt almost perfect. Now, _that _didn't happen too often…

He glanced over at his clock and saw that it was only 4:30 in the morning, and briefly considered trying to go back to sleep. But why would he do that when he felt so wonderful? Nope. This was the perfect time to get up and go for a run. Running always made him feel good, and seeing as how he _needed_ the endorphins most mornings, the thought of adding the pleasure of running to his already heightened feeling of euphoria enticed him. He got out of bed with no difficulty whatsoever and had slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt in no time.

He left his room and entered the dimly lit hallway, its light warm and welcoming. He considered inviting Ronon to go with him, but it was still pretty early so he decided he would go on his own for now and if he felt up to it later, he would have another go when Ronon got up.

He started off with a slow jog through the deserted hallways, but he craved more and knew he could handle starting off faster this morning. _Man, what did I do last night_? he wondered happily.

He quickly found the perfect pace and was soon lost in the sound of his feet colliding with the ground. It was heaven, or something close to it. The weather was beautiful outside and the endless water reflected the two bright moons like a mirror. A soft breeze combed through his hair and lightly covered his face with drops of sea water. Salty air filled his lungs and he took it in greedily, loving every second of it.

What an amazing way to start the day. It had to be one of the best he'd had in a while.

In what felt like just a few short minutes, John had circled the entire east side of the city and felt like he could go ten more rounds, but figured it was time to head back in. The sun had already risen - with one of the most gorgeous sunrises he had ever witnessed - and he knew that people would start calling him sooner or later.

Reluctantly, he slipped through one of the doors that led to one of Atlantis' many hallways. He found this one to be deserted, which worked for him because he realized he was probably covered in sweat and he knew his hair was twisted in all sorts of directions due to the wind outside. He entered the nearest transporter and soon found himself back at his quarters.

He quickly took a shower, letting the hot water slide over his surprisingly not-aching body. Then threw on his normal black BDU's and a matching black t-shirt. He didn't remember any scheduled off-world missions today, which was odd, but he wasn't going to question it.

Glancing at the clock before heading out of the room, John frowned when he saw that it was 7:00 in the morning. Ronon was usually banging on his door much earlier than that or someone was demanding his presence elsewhere. Always something, but not this morning.

Sheppard decided not dwell on it any further and left his room for the second time that morning. There were people walking around now, though all of them were in their own little worlds, reading newspapers or reports. Either way, no one really acknowledge one another, so Sheppard walked by unnoticed. He didn't know where to go first. He thought about stopping by Rodney's lab or maybe the gym, but ultimately decided on the mess hall. He still wasn't hungry, but it felt like the right place to be.

When he went in, he found that it was bustling with the normal early-morning diners. Over in the corner, the two same scientists played their first chess game of the day, no doubt to be followed by another before returning to their daily jobs.

John chuckled and scanned the room for any signs of his team. When his search yielded no results, he found an empty table off to one side, the section that was always glistening with rays from the sun. It was his favorite table, the one he and his team always chose to sit at.

He spotted a lonely newspaper on another empty table and grabbed it before sliding into a seat. It was one that the science team had been producing for a few months now. It wasn't the New York Times, but it would have to be good enough. He looked at the date and knew that it was a least a few days old, but it was better than nothing. It was funny how little things like a daily newspaper could be taken for granted back on Earth.

He sat for a while, reading, expecting someone to come join him. No one did, not for a long time, at least, which made him a little antsy. If he wasn't waking up to Ronon pounding on his door or being paged for one reason or another, then he always found at least one of his teammates in the mess hall.

He sat for a few more minutes and was about to leave when he spotted Teyla and Ronon walking through the door. It took a few minutes for them to make their way to the table, but when they did, it actually left John feeling more uneasy than before they had arrived.

Neither said a word to him, just slipped into the chairs at the opposite end of the table from John. If that wasn't weird enough, John saw troubled looks on both of their faces and was concerned when they continued to sit in silence. The real red flag, however, came when John realized that Ronon didn't have a plate filled with half of the breakfast bar.

John sat and watched them for a few minutes, but when neither one so much as acknowledged his presence, he decided it was time to break the extremely awkward silence.

"Hey, guys," he said uncertainly. No answer. In fact, they didn't so much as flinch. "Uh, hello?" he said a little louder.

"Hellooooo?" Sheppard tried again, waving his hand in front of Ronon's face. Still no reaction at all. "Okay guys, is this some sort of joke?" Not a word, nor a look. "Did I do something wrong? Cuz' if I did, you guys are really being immature about it…"

"I want to go back," Ronon said finally, his voice laced with anger and his eyes narrowed on Teyla. The heated statement shut John's mouth instantly. John wondered what was Ronon talking about, why was he so mad, and why was no one paying an bit of attention to him?

"Ronon," said Teyla, shaking her head slowly, "I know how you feel. I, too, would love to return to Malayka, but we must remain on Atlantis for the time being."

John was standing now, staring at the two.

"I don't care, Teyla. What they did…," said Ronon, his anger level rising every second. "We can't just sit around!" he finished, kicking his chair over as he got to his feet.

"What are you talking about?" John asked, walking over to Ronon. He couldn't imagine what could possibly upset Ronon this much. But he didn't even look at John. Not a glance.

"Ronon!" Teyla said, suddenly standing up and placing her hands on Ronon's shoulders. "Ronon, we must not behave this way! The Malaykans will be punished for their actions, but right now, our priority is being here for John. He needs us."

John froze as a knot grew in his stomach and twisted unbearably. Be here for him? What did that mean?

"What are you talking about, Teyla?" he asked desperately, turning to Teyla, then Ronon, but neither looked his way.

"Someone tell me what he hell is going on!" John shouted, unnerved by the conversation. No one looked up from the their meals. No one looked at him at all. No one even flinched at his outburst.

"Guys… come on!" He yelled and walked around the table and grabbed Teyla's shoulders, but not even this made her react. She didn't even blink. It was like she didn't feel his hands on her shoulders even though John could feel her skin beneath his; it was like he was nothing more than a ghost.

"This can't be happening…," Sheppard said to himself, really beginning to panic. How was this possible? It wasn't. It couldn't be. This was a dream. Yes, it was most certainly a dream, John decided. He _had_ touched Teyla and he _had_ read that newspaper. As the thought of the newspaper raced through his mind, Sheppard had the urge to see it again and turned on his heals to view the spot on the table where he had discarded it. But it wasn't there. Panic filled his body, knowing he had left the newspaper on the table. His eyes searched the room frantically. When he finally spotted the newspaper, he realized that it was in the exact same position it was in before he had touched it. Back on that other vacant table, as though he had never laid his fingers on it.

His eyes darted back to the table, and without thinking, he picked up a chair and threw it across the room and watched as it shattered a nearby glass wall. He looked around desperately, hoping to see a reaction. Someone _had_ to react to that.

Yet, no one did.

Not a single person seemed the least bit interested in the fact that a chair had just been thrown across the mess hall.

When John turned back to the place where the chair had been, he found, to his horror, that the chair was still there, as though it had never been touched. He looked at the recently shattered glass wall and saw that it, too, was not so much as scratched.

It was like everything he did never really happened. It all reversed after he did it and no one even realized it was done in the first place.

As disbelief and confusion wrapped around John like a wet blanket, his heart rate slowed and he entered a surreal existence. He reached out halfheartedly and touched Ronon, and just like his attempt with Teyla, John's hand landed on the Satedan's shoulder, but made no impact on the man. He just kept staring angrily at Teyla, never noticing John standing right beside him.

"We should return to the infirmary," Teyla suggested quietly, and Ronon nodded in agreement. Sheppard watched, in utter shock, as they walked slowly from the mess hall. He didn't follow them at first. He couldn't. He knew that he would learn more if he did, but he wasn't so sure that's what he wanted…

However, after a quick debate with himself, he decided that this since was a dream anyway, he might as well learn where the twisting plot was taking him. He took one last look around the mess hall, then jogged after Ronon and Teyla.

He found them immediately and fell into step with their unnaturally slow pace. He looked back and forth between the two, sometimes reaching out and pushing some random passerby, only to see them regain their balance and walk on like nothing had ever happened. He wanted to hear Ronon and Teyla talk about what was going on; he wanted to know more about what was wrong with him, and he wanted to know now. Dream or not, this whole situation was getting to Sheppard and he didn't like not knowing.

"He didn't even do anything," Ronon said through gritted teeth.

Teyla nodded wearily. "No, he did not."

That was all they said. John assumed Ronon and Teyla were referring to him, but that still didn't tell him a whole lot.

Sheppard continued to follow them, ending up, just as they had said, in the infirmary. It was the last place he wanted to be, but here he was. He followed them in and spotted McKay sitting in a chair on the outside of a closed curtain. McKay's head was rested in his right hand and his eyes stared, unseeing, at the floor.

"Rodney, I'm glad to see you have joined us. John would be pleased to know you came to visit," Teyla greeted softly, watching McKay's melancholy behavior with a certain sadness.

"What's wrong buddy?" John asked, momentarily forgetting his current disability due to the desire to find out what was making McKay this somber. Rodney blinked and did look up, though John figured it was because Teyla had just placed her hand on Rodney's shoulder, not because John had spoken.

"What's going on?" Ronon asked McKay. _Excellent question, _Sheppard thought.

"Oh, they're just changing… the bandages and stuff," answered Rodney, his hand rubbing his swollen eyelids and shaking his head. "There's… there's a lot, you know, so it may be a little while." John frowned deeply at the look on Rodney's face and the tone of his voice. There was no real sign of the normal McKay in either. It worried John more than what Rodney had actually said. _A lot of bandages…_

There were still many questions left unanswered, but John had no doubt who was on the other side of the curtain, getting his many bandages changed. It was himself. No, that didn't make sense; how could it? But that was the only explanation given what John had witnessed so far.

Regardless of this revelation, John slowly moved towards the curtain and pulled it back, just so he could see for himself...

**TBC...**

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**End note: **Hope everyone is enjoying it so far (and understanding. I've found it's kind of difficuly to explain.) I plan on updating every other day, give or take one day. But, the story is finished, I just need some time to make sure everything is the way I want it to be. (If any of you have seen the movie _The Invisible, _then I'm sure this story sounds very familiar. As you can see, I took the idea from that movie, and placed Shep in it.)


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who commented! For those of you I can't reply to:

**JJK: **I feel terribly predictable now. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

**Carter1994: **You're awesome. Ha, I'm glad to see you hanging around again! This story will be considerably different than my others, but it's something I really wanted to do, so, I just hope at least a few people like it too.

**In Between - II**

John slowly moved towards the curtain and pulled it back, just so he could see for himself..

He stepped closer to the infirmary bed, then turned back around to discover that the curtain had already closed itself back without anyone noticing, but this concept didn't surprise him anymore.

Looking at himself on an infirmary bed did, however. Despite the mounds of white dressings and countless bruises, John recognized himself, and knew that he was in terrible shape. He was on a ventilator, something that he had been on before, but he had never been conscious to witness it. But was he really conscious now? The person on the bed most certainly wasn't, but John was. _This _John…? This was all starting to confuse him…

He continued to view his own body laid out on the infirmary bed. Apart from his face being swollen to the point it was almost unrecognizable, he saw a small cast around his right wrist and the pressure bandages wrapped tightly around his chest, of which he knew was for some broken and/or cracked ribs. There was also numerous pieces of gauze placed on various parts of his body, his head in particular, and his skin was discolored in many areas. On the whole, John's body had been through hell.

John stared at his body on the bed, then looked at his hands. There were two of him, he had already decided that, but only one of them was visible to other people. Judging by the state of his body, the real Sheppard was not doing good at all. The _real _Sheppard? If the 'real' Sheppard was on the bed, then what was he? Was he a spirit, or a soul? That was the only logical explanation he could think of, although none of this was logical in the least. So, to make things a little easier, he decided that John Sheppard, _**he, **_was split between _body _and _soul._

He looked down at his body and suddenly felt angry and sick. Why was he looking at himself? Why was this happening? How did this happen?

But it _wasn't_ really happening, John reminded himself. It was a dream. A very _real _dream, but a dream nonetheless. In fact, he would be waking up at some point to find himself in his bed once again, maybe awakened by Ronon pounding on the door. The way it was supposed to be.

He decided he didn't want to be looking at his body anymore. It was an unsettling sight and he didn't care to linger on it any longer. He opened the curtain and stepped away from his body and was once again with his team members. They looked so sad and scared. Well, Ronon appeared to be wild with anger, but John knew it was the Satedan's way of displaying concern. Either way, it pained John to see his team - his friends - like that.

"It's just a dream, you guys," John explained to them. Of course, no one acknowledged him. "A very _real_ dream, but I'm fine. Really…"

He turned his attention to Rodney, who was now sitting with his hands awkwardly placed over his ears. The scientist looked worn out and disheveled, as though he hadn't slept or bathed for days. John frowned and took a few steps closer to where Rodney sat, and squatted beside him.

"You smell," John said, his eyes not leaving Rodney's lowered head. "McKay, this is fake; a dream. Go take a shower and get some sleep."

Rodney looked up then, making John's heart skip a beat at Rodney's acknowledgement. John stood up now and stared at McKay expectantly but McKay looked around for a second, not as though he was looking for someone, but as though he was just weary and concerned. As though he hadn't heard anyone speaking to him at all. Disappointment washed over John.

"I'm gonna go," McKay said suddenly, rising from his chair and looking at Ronon and Teyla. "I can't sit here and… just let me know if anything changes." Teyla opened her mouth to say something, but McKay was already walking out the infirmary door before she was able to speak.

"He is going to lock himself in his lab once more," Teyla said quietly.

"Yep," John and Ronon said in unison, though Teyla could only hear Ronon.

"Took three days to get him to come here," Ronon added, "Wonder how long it'll take this time."

_Three days? Has it been that long? _John wondered, but his questions were interrupted by the sound of a curtain being pulled back. Two nurses were walking away now, holding small bags of what appeared to be bloodied gauze. The sight made John's stomach turn uneasily.

"You can sit with him now," Dr. Keller said quietly, motioning towards some empty seats by Sheppard's bed. John looked at his team, then at his body, and finally closed his eyes. Why was this happening? Minute by minute, John was finding it harder and harder to remind himself that all of this was just a dream. That it wasn't real.

"How is he?"

Keller sighed in the way medical doctors do when they don't have any good news. "He's still in a coma," she said, the words penetrating John's mind like ice. "People have come out of them, and others haven't. All we can do right now is care for his wounds and… have hope," Keller finished, placing her hand on Teyla's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. John watched Teyla nod somberly before turning back to her chair and easing down in it. John turned his gaze to Ronon now, who stood at the foot of Sheppard's bed, his arms crossed and his face screwed up in anger.

"It's okay, big guy," John tried to say, knowing that Ronon's anger was reaching a dangerous level. "It's not real," John repeated so quietly, he barely heard it himself.

_Do I still believe that? _

Over the last few minutes, John's certainty of the situation being a dream was slipping away. Nothing had changed, really, but it was almost as if John was finally seeing it for what it was, even if he wasn't sure exactly what that meant. He wanted so badly to believe this was all going on in his head, but a part of him was screaming and chastising this naivety.

He couldn't take it anymore. Half of him was pushing the idea that this was fake, while the other was telling him to accept it. He looked at Teyla with her sad eyes and hurt expression, then to Ronon and his dangerous anger, and finally, his eyes fell upon his own body, tattered and torn and inert. If it hadn't been for the horrible discoloration of his skin, John might have mistaken the stillness of his body as peaceful, but he knew better.

John began backing away; away from his distraught team, away from his own mangled body and away from the confusion. He wanted out. He wanted out of this dream and he wanted it now. The wet blanket was wrapping itself tighter around him and he was finding it harder to breathe.

He turned suddenly, and started running. He needed to prove something to himself, and there was no way he was going to do it in the infirmary. He ran, bumping into a few people along the way, but they didn't seem to mind at all. He ran, skipping all of the transporters, fearing the idea of having to stop long enough to get inside and tell it where to go.

John kept running until he reached his destination. The place where his day had began, and hopefully the place where it would end. He had already tried to 'wake' himself up, but that proved to be futile. So really, he only had one option; go back to bed. That made sense, right? Maybe not, but he was going to try anyway.

John entered his room, and found himself pacing as he thought. He wasn't tired at all. In fact, his mind was racing with the events of the morning. Dream or not, it had been a horrible one. It made no sense. But if it wasn't a dream, then who was to say the scenario of body splitting from soul was impossible? Of course, he had never heard of anything like that, but since coming to the Pegasus Galaxy, he learned to keep an open mind.

So if it was real, - which is wasn't, John added - then his soul or spirit had separated from his body which was currently in a coma. What did that mean? He obviously wasn't dead, but was he so far gone that he could never come back? Would he have to walk around like this forever, having no one ever see him or touch him, until they pulled the plug? Was that his future?

John lashed out and picked up the nearest thing to him - the lamp sitting innocently on his bedside table - and threw it at the opposite wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. But when Sheppard looked back at his bedside table, he saw the lamp sitting there, mocking him and his inability to interact with his surroundings. John shouted in anger and threw himself on the bed.

He tried to even out his breathing, pressing his hands to his eyes with a significant amount of pressure. He did his best to clear his mind, knowing that would be his only chance of falling asleep, and he succeeded… sort of. It would have to be good enough. He took a very deep breath, released it, and shut his eyes. He waited for a couple of minutes and tried his best to relax. He kept telling himself that everything he had seen that day was just a dream. That's all.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but absolutely nothing was happening.

"Dammit!" John growled as he sat up.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?!" he screamed at his ceiling. "I _know _this is a dream!"

He rolled out of his bed and began pacing again. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't. It had to be a nightmare, and in nightmares, he would always wake up right before something bad happened. Whether it be falling, getting shot, or being exploded, he would always wake up before it took place.

With that thought, he made his bedroom door open and stopped for a moment on the outside of it. People were walking around in the hall, his own men in fact. As they walked by, he caught a part of their conversation.

"Have you heard how he is?" Lieutenant Masters asked a new soldier whose name John had forgotten.

"No," the soldier answered, "just that he's in bad shape."

Masters sighed and looked at John, though John knew the man was actually looking right through him and at the door to his quarters.

"I don't want to be under anyone else. Colonel Sheppard has been here since the beginning and he's willing to break the rules when it's needed. You can't find CO's like that, you know? One who cares more about protecting people than getting themselves promoted."

The other soldier nodded and they walked on. Despite John's current position, it was kind of nice to hear his men talking so well about him.

_Focus John! _he reminded himself.

He glanced around the hall and did the first thing that came to mind. He sprinted forward and the next thing he knew, he was slamming into the wall, and was promptly thrown back.

He was lying on his back now, staring up at the ceiling. There had been pain from the impact. It had only lasted for a split second, but he had felt a considerable amount of pain before it disappeared completely. He stayed on the floor for a while. It wasn't a dream; you didn't feel pain in dreams. That was always the tell-tale sign.

"Damn," John sighed, still on his back.

All of this was real, which meant that he, the combination of John Sheppard's body and soul, was teetering on the edge of life and death. It also meant that what he had seen in the infirmary was the current state of his physical body, and that he was in a coma.

It meant that there was life, there was death, and then there was something in between.

And John Sheppard was stuck in it.

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **I didn't lie when I said it was slow, huh? Well... I hope some people are still enjoying. Thanks to everyone who commented and to _sandgnat _and _ruffles._

**In Between - III**

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John sat, letting the cool salt air brush over his body. The sun was setting now and was even more beautiful than the sunrise that morning. The site confused John; a part of him wanted to smile at its beauty, while the other part was angry that it was as gorgeous as it was. It simply wasn't fair for something to be that stunning while he was in such a hell. In fact, he would consider this 'place' hell if he didn't know for a fact that he was still alive.

He had long since given up the hope that this may all be a dream. And from that moment when he realized it was real, he didn't know what to do with himself. He sure as hell didn't want to go back to the infirmary and see his mangled body and realize just how screwed he was, and he didn't much care to be around people who couldn't see or hear him. Instead, he found himself on the very edge of the east pier.

It was one of his absolute favorite places to be. He was always reminded of just how small he was when he was here, staring at the endless water meeting the endless sky. It made all of the massive issues and difficulties he faced seem like nothing more than bugs buzzing around his head. There was hardly ever clouds on this planet, and always a warm breeze. It was… perfect.

John sighed. This environment had soothed him and gave him a place to escape to. He wasn't freaking out and panicking anymore. He was in a surreal existence now, thinking about his current state of being and what that meant, and more importantly, would it could mean.

Was his body destined to die and he had already been turned into a ghost, forced to remain on this planet and never touch or feel again? Or would his soul disappear when his body died as well? And what happened if he survived? Would he remember any of this?

The questions plagued him and engulfed to the point of not caring. This was his life, for however long, and it made him wonder what he was going to do with it. He couldn't interact with anyone, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be around anyone right now anyway. He hated the fact that he couldn't talk with them, that they couldn't see him. And he hated seeing them so upset over… him. It was just wrong.

So, if this was his life, what should he do? Sit out here and sulk forever, or do something? Doing something sounded better to him, but he couldn't think of what. True, he could run rampant through the halls and do whatever he pleased, knowing that it would make no difference to anyone. But that was just the point; it made no difference.

John sighed again and fell back against the hard pavement of the pier. He was not the type for this. He was not the kind to hope for this sort of existence instead of just passing on into whatever death held. John blinked against the darkening sky.

_I may still get that chance._

He sat up suddenly, and stared at his reflection in the smooth water below his feet. Why was he being so quick to write himself off as dead? There had to be a reason he was in this… state of being, right? Maybe this was his chance to live again! Maybe he was supposed to use this time to fight for life. His body definitely _looked _like it should have died, and yet he was hanging on…

He stood up and backed away from the pier's edge. It made sense; he had always fought to stay alive, and while he didn't fear death, he preferred living. So, maybe he was supposed to fight for life again, like all the other times, only this time would be a little different than most.

Seeing as how he didn't have a real body, though, it made the word 'fighting' completely figurative, but he would try anyway. John had no idea where to start, but he was sure he would think of something.

He was running back to Atlantis now, ready to fight for his right to live. His very first plan of action was going to lead him to the infirmary, a place where he didn't really want to return to, but it was necessary. It was only natural to attempt to reconnect the body and soul by being in close proximity to each other.

When he entered, he immediately saw Teyla sitting straight-backed in a chair next to his body's bed. It had to be past 10 o'clock at night and she was still here. It made him feel guilty for keeping her up.

She was sitting very close to his bed, one hand lightly wrapped around his left hand. John lifted his own left hand and looked at it as though he was supposed to be feeling her hand on his. But he didn't.

John watched Teyla longer and realized that her face was streaked with tears. She can't have been crying, could she? He was in a coma, for God's sake, not dead. He suddenly forgot his mission and found it more important to watch Teyla. She looked so sad.

"It's okay," John told her. "I'm going to live, Teyla. I promise."

Teyla heaved a heavy sigh and briefly lowered her head. When she lifted it again, she glanced around the empty infirmary, then turned back to John's body.

"John," she started softly, "If you can hear me, please know that we are here for you. It has been over three days, and we miss you terribly."

_Three days? That long? _John hadn't even bothered to wonder about _how _he had ended up in the predicament in the first place. Why was he here? John peered at his body and decided that it had probably been beaten severely, but when did that happen? Obviously three days ago, but he didn't remember even going off-world.

Then it hit him: his dream. The one that had woken him that morning. In it, John had been beaten to a bloody pulp and had even wanted death. Was that what happened? Was it not a dream after all?

John sighed and placed his head in his hands. So he was beaten? The worst part was, he couldn't remember anything about that day apart from the beating. What world had they been on, why had they been there, and what had gone so wrong?

He lifted his head up and stood at the same time. Now was not the time; he needed to work on getting his life back, and then he could ask all the questions he wanted to. He forced himself to look away from Teyla, and took a few steps closer to his body. God, he looked hideous. _Suck it up, John, _he told himself.

He got closer to his body and paused, unsure of what to do next. Maybe he should touch… himself. He reached out and wrapped his hand around his body's hand. It felt weird; very different from when he had touched Ronon or Teyla. It was… tingly. John looked at the machines hooked up to his body, half expecting to see the monitors jump or wail or something. But they didn't.

John frowned and removed his hand from his body, instantly losing the tingling sensation. He inspected his own body now, wondering if it was necessary to touch a more intricate part, like his head or chest. But looking at himself now, with his numerous injuries, he wasn't sure if that was such a good idea.

Oh well, it couldn't get much worse. He reached out and lightly placed his hands on his body's chest, the tingling coming back full force. He held his hands there, wondering if the 'magic' took time to work. But when nothing happened after a full three minutes, John gave up and looked towards Teyla.

Her hand was still wrapped around his, her eyes never leaving his bruised face.

"How long are you going to sit here, Teyla?" he asked her, abandoning his efforts to connect his soul to his body. "Do you guys always do this? Wait around for days? I'm honored, but I'm not worth all that…," he joked, leaning against his infirmary bed.

"I told you I'll be alright, and I mean it," he continued, lowering his voice. "I don't know why I'm here, or how it happened, exactly, but I'm not giving up. Okay? So, go get some sleep and take care of Rodney. He's probably losing it right now."

Soon after John finished his sentence, Teyla's hand slipped from his own, and she pulled out some type of cloth and began crocheting, or what John assumed was something like it. John smiled, knowing that it wasn't the very best of jobs, seeing as how Teyla was not exactly the stereotypical woman, but it was nice in it's own way.

John lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. What was he doing? He looked back at his body and touched his forehead, in one last attempt to make something happen, but nothing did.

"Damn," he sighed as he removed his hand. All of this was really starting to piss him off.

"Dr. Keller," Teyla said suddenly, placing her cloth gently on the bedside table before standing. "I am assuming there has been no further progress," she said, glancing down at John's body.

Keller bit her lips. "No, Teyla, I'm sorry," Keller answered in her soft doctor's tone. "I'm not going to lie, most would never have made it to Atlantis with the injuries he sustained. Internal bleeding, a severe concussion, dozens of broken bones… It's a miracle he's here at all…"

"John is strong," Teyla said, glancing at John's body and placing her hand on his forearm. "His will to live is stronger than anyone else I have met. Especially for one who does not fear death."

"That, I can see," Keller agreed with a smirk. "I'm just saying that this can go either way. I've heard of people waking up from comas far worse than this, and some who don't wake up at all. Now, if anyone could pull through, I wouldn't put it past the Colonel, but I also don't want to give any false hope."

Teyla nodded knowingly, her eyes still locked on John's still form. John watched the conversation with strange fascination. He couldn't say that he _enjoyed _hearing these things, even though they were very kind things to say about someone, but they did inspire him more. People _expected _him to pull through; thought he was strong enough.

"Do you think he can hear what is happening around him?" Teyla asked. John cocked his head at this. The answer was 'yes,' plain and simple. Of course, he doubted she meant "_is his soul wandering around, listening to people's conversations?" _

"People have been wondering that for years," Keller answered, staring at John's body. "Sometimes, it's apparent that they were aware of the world around them, and other times, they have no recollection whatsoever. We wouldn't know until he woke up, really, but there's a good chance he can."

Teyla nodded and smoothed the bed sheets on John's bed. "I have a feeling he can."

Neither one spoke after that and eventually, Keller went back to her office after looking over some of the machines hooked to John's body. Teyla sat down soon afterwards, and continued her crocheting. John watched her for a while, and found himself hoping he would be able to talk to her again someday. She really was a good person to have around.

"What now?" John asked himself eventually, as he began to pace the infirmary floor. "Plan A didn't work, and I don't really have a Plan B." John stopped pacing and thought.

"Well, I'll need a Plan B so… okay, so touching myself didn't work, but how many ways can there be to put yourself back together?"

John considered the question. "Maybe it's not how I put myself back together, but how I got here in the first place…"

Deciding that this was a possibility worth exploring, John began to thank about what could have put him in this predicament in the first place. He didn't remember the events leading up to the beating well enough to recall if anything unusual had happened that day. The only thing he could thing of would be that he ran into some strange alien device, but he just couldn't remember if that had happened.

Going off the idea that a device had been involved, John knew that there was only one place he would possibly get any answers from, though McKay's lab had not been one of the top places on John's list of places to visit. He couldn't say why, but he just didn't want to go there yet.

But the idea of fixing this problem overruled that, and John suddenly found himself leaving the infirmary and heading towards McKay's lab.

When he finally reached it and walked in, he was immediately greeted with the site of a _very_ disheveled Dr. McKay. John remembered seeing him earlier in the infirmary, and while he wasn't sure how long ago that was, he was sure that McKay's appearance had deteriorated since then.

His hair was wild and his clothes looked wrinkled and rougher than usual. He had dark bags under his eyes, which looked bloodshot themselves, and his every movement was more frantic and mousy that normal.

"Damn McKay, what've you done to yourself?"

Rodney stopped then, and looked at the dry-erase board he had just been writing on, and without a warning, erased it all. Dozens of little math symbols and hours of work gone in a flash. John shook his head.

"Look's like I'm not the only one with problems," said John as he walked around the table filled with different objects and dozens of coffee cups.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," he said to himself as he glanced over the different devices. There was too many and he had no idea where to start. He glanced at McKay, who had only written two symbols on the board.

"Feel like helping, McKay?" John asked sarcastically. "You know me, I'm dumb as hell. What _is _all of this stuff anyway and why…"

"SHUT UP!"

John's figurative heart stopped.

"McKay, can you…"

"SHUTUP, SHUTUP!" McKay screamed again, his hands now firmly placed over his ears.

John forced himself to unfreeze and walked straight towards McKay.

"You can hear me, can't you?" John asked, his heart beating a mile-a-minute. McKay didn't answer, he just dropped to his knees and rocked back and forth, his hands still over his ears.

"Rodney, buddy, you can hear me!" John said with a hearty laugh. "You can hear me!"

"I've completely lost it," McKay muttered as he rocked. "I'm a loon, oh God I'm a foot in the door to some asylum."

"He can hear me…" John repeated with a grin.

**TBC...**

* * *

I just realized I'm rather predictable.. Oh well.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Hello once again. I would first off like to both thank and apologize to everyone who has commented. I usually try to respond to everyone, but school starts Monday so I've been running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. But, I will be making a huge effort to correct that mistake this go round. But thank you guys. You don't know just how much that helps me.

Also, thank you to my beta's: _sandgnat _and _ruffles. _You guys are the bomb.

This one is pretty short compared to the others. Sorry :-/

Well, it's late and I've got a day at the beach tomorrow. (Might sound nice, but I'm not a beach person. I live in Florida, but don't like the beach. Ha.)

**In Between - IV**

* * *

"Oh come on, Rodney, I know you can hear me!" John yelled across the room.

They had been at this for over an hour. John would try to talk to McKay, and McKay would act like he couldn't hear anything. It was obvious that he could, though, because every time John said something, Rodney would huff, or slam something down, or stop working all together. Either way, he would react to what John said, and that's what mattered. John had also come to the realization that McKay could only hear him and nothing else. But, that was much better than nothing.

"For the love of God, McKay, I know this is weird, but don't you think it's a little odd for me too?!"

"For you?!" McKay screamed before he could stop himself. John was sure Rodney wanted to say something else, but he managed to mute himself before he did. He just huffed and turned back to the whiteboard.

"Yes, Rodney, for _me_!" John continued, realizing that this point had been the only thing to get a rise out of the scientist for quite some time.

At this, McKay let out a howl of laughter. "Well, you're not the one hearing disembodied _voices _in your head, now are you?" McKay spat, spittle flying from his mouth.

"No, it's worse," John countered, "I _am _the disembodied voice!"

"Just shut up!"

"No, I need your help," responded John.

"I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one who needs help around here," McKay mumbled, still trying with great effort to write something on his board but each attempt got sloppier and less legible than the last.

"You're not crazy, McKay," John said, then paused as he considered this statement. " Well, you're just as crazy as I am…"

"That's so very reassuring coming from the _voice in my head!!_" McKay sneered, looking the very definition of a mad scientist.

John let out a forced laugh. "Maybe you're right; maybe you have really lost it."

"And this is even better," McKay called back. "Now even the voices in my head are calling me crazy, right after they said I _wasn't _crazy! Where's the sense in that?! I should have high-tailed it out of this place when I had the chance. I'm a brilliant genius who's mind has been ruined by this damn place."

"Stop complaining, McKay. You're not the one dying here," John snapped, surprising even himself.

That shut Rodney up and left the man standing in the middle of the room, looking utterly dumbfounded. John stood from the stool he had been occupying for the last hour, and walked towards his teammate and friend, stopping before getting too close.

"I need your help, Rodney," John spoke quietly now, knowing that the situation was just as bazaar for McKay. "I don't know how this happened, but it did, and you are the only one that can hear me."

Rodney looked beyond unruly now; he looked world-weary and beat. John could almost see the battle raging inside the scientist's head; whether to accept that he _was _in fact hearing a voice, and to continue trying to ignore it, or to believe John. This situation went beyond any logic Rodney had been taught; even in the Pegasus Galaxy, this _was_ odd. John understood this. He even sympathized with Rodney, but he couldn't think of anyone else to turn to.

"Rodney…," John urged after a few minutes of silence.

"Well…," McKay said finally, his eyes wandering over the general area in which John was standing, though when he spoke, he was addressing himself more than John. "I mean, this wouldn't be the first time I've heard voices, and that had a scientific explanation, so this could possibly be scientifically proven as well…"

"I hope so."

"And in this galaxy, anything's possible," McKay continued, debating aloud.

"Very true. Two words: space vampires."

"What are the perimeters? Like, are you literally in my head or…?"

"No," John answered, "I don't think I am. I can walk around on my own and everything."

"Really? And no one else can hear you?"

"Or see me, or touch me, or… well anything. Except you. You can hear me."

Rodney frowned for a moment, then brought his hands up to his face. "What am I doing?" he asked, his question muffled. "I've completely lost it. I'm talking to _Sheppard, _who, I know for a fact, is in a coma in the infirmary.."

John sighed loudly, "McKay! I thought we had gone through this already. My spirit or soul, or whatever the hell I am right now, is split from my body. I don't know how it happened…, but it's possible, right?"

"No. No, not really. It would probably take a very powerful Ancient device to pull something like this off and there were no devices on that planet. None, whatsoever. None capable of that, anyway. From there, even if you - _Sheppard," _he corrected himself quickly, "- did come in contact with a device, I would have no idea where to start. So no, for all intents and purposes just… no. It isn't impossible and I'm insane."

John grunted and slammed his hand down on the metal table, making Rodney jump. "Dammit, McKay! What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

John received no reply. Apparently, McKay had decided to try his hand at ignoring him again.

"Okay, and if it _is _possible," John said after a few moments, attempting a new strategy. "If I really _am _John Sheppard's spirit, stuck somewhere between life and death and given the opportunity to fight for life, then you're technically helping me die."

McKay froze and John saw horror flash across his face. It immediately made John feel guilty for putting Rodney in such a horrible position.

"Well, not helping me _die, _exactly, but you sure as hell aren't helping me stay alive," John clarified.

"How?" McKay asked quietly. "How would I help you? If there's no device…"

John shook his head. "I really don't know, but there has to be something, right?"

John walked across the room to where McKay was still rooted to the spot, and felt the twinge of guilt grow. McKay hadn't asked for this and it was a very terrifying situation to be placed in. John knew that McKay had not been taking proper care of himself for a couple of days; the dark circles under his eyes and the empty coffee cups littering the room were proof of just that. But what else could John do? He needed help. He needed to know that he wasn't doomed to watch himself slowly die with no one to help him through.

"I-I don't know," McKay said, sinking into a nearby chair. "I just don't know. This… this can't be happening." As he finished, he let his head fall into his hands and stayed that way for a while.

John watched him. Watched his slow intakes of breath and the way his shoulders seemed to droop lower every time he exhaled. It was weird to see Rodney McKay so… deflated. Defeated, even. He wasn't like the McKay John knew at all, and it made him uneasy. Did McKay get like this every time John, or someone esle McKay cared about, was in the infirmary?

"Rodney, what happened?" John asked, realizing just how little he knew about what had happened to him. "I know I was beaten, but I can't remember why or what led to it or what happened afterwards…"

McKay lifted his head and stared at the place John's voice was coming from. Once again, John saw the internal battle McKay was having with his logical, scientific self, and the part of him that wanted to believe he could do something, anything, to help John. And when the battle seemed to be over, another one began. One in which John saw pained memories flash across Rodney's mind.

Rodney shrugged before opening his mouth to speak, "We were on M2X-475, talking about trading their special medical leaf for food. It went surprisingly well; no weird rituals or tainted feasts, just a simple 'yes' on the chief's part, and that was it."

John listened intently, the memories flashing before his own eyes like an old movie as McKay described that day. It was like he was reliving it all for a second time.

"There _was_ a celebration in honor of our new friendship. We stuck around, of course. Ronon found some alien chick and danced with her. At least, I'm assuming it was dancing. It looked more like a cross between convulsions and a mixture of different bird waddles…," Rodney explained, and John chuckled as that memory played in his head. McKay's description of Ronon's 'dancing' was actually quite accurate.

"Anyway, we ran a little past our appointed check-in time. The 'gate was a mile outside of the outskirts of the village and because communication was poor out there, someone had to go check in with Atlantis before they sent another team. Sheppard… _you,_"resigned McKay, "volunteered. A few minutes later, we heard gunshots and… we found you." The room grew very silent. If the memories Sheppard had about the beating were accurate, then he knew it must have been an ugly site.

"But you got me back…," John urged quietly when McKay did not continue on his own.

Rodney snorted wearily, "Barely. You stopped breathing a couple of times, wouldn't wake up, bleeding from all over the place…" he trailed off as his eyes lost focus.

John closed his eyes and bit his lips. He didn't remember the ride back to Atlantis at all and hated that he was making Rodney relive it. It sounded horrible and it was as if John was listening to a story about another person, not himself.

"And I guess you know the rest," McKay said, then stopped and looked up suddenly. "Have you seen… _you? _Or, your… uh, body?"

"Yeah," John replied quietly. "Kinda weird."

"So what do we do?" John asked, wanting desperately to change the subject for both of their sakes.

"What? Oh. Damned if I know," McKay said absent-mindedly, then shouted "_Oh!_" as he slapped his own forehead. "The Ancient Database… if there's a device capable of splitting the body from the soul, then chances are it'll be in the Database. It has to be…"

"Or?"

McKay looked up. "Or… we're screwed."

"Oh," John replied, "well, then let's to hope we find it in the Database."

"Yeah, yeah," replied McKay from behind his computer, sounding more like the Rodney John knew. The peek of familiarity instantly raised John's morale and made him feel… almost normal. Whatever that was.

"Okay, so," McKay mumbled as his fingers flew across the keyboard, "your body is in the infirmary, your spirit in here with me. You can walk around, but no one can hear you… except me." McKay stopped and looked up. "That's weird. I mean, why me?"

Sheppard had no answer to offer him. Maybe both he and McKay had touched the mysterious device and that formed a connection between him… When John didn't reply, McKay shrugged and finished typing.

"There," Rodney said, standing up straight, "it'll be a couple of hours - thousands of possibilities - so uh… can you like, use the facilities? You know, do you hear Nature calling?" he asked with a nervous, yet curious expression.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. It was going to be a very long, long couple of hours.

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I'm so sorry for the abnormally long wait for this one. Like I said, school started today and now we've got Faye (the hurricane/tropical storm) coming, so... it's just been crazy. But, here it is. Better late than never, yes?

**Thanks: **As always, to_ sandgnat _and _Ruffles. _And of course, everyone who has reviewed! It helps so much. And I'm going to try to respond to them now. Again.. I'm terribly behind...

**In Between - V**

* * *

John sat perched on McKay's favorite chair behind the computer desk. The search through the Ancient Database was proving to take longer than John had expected. Four hours, to be exact. Who knew there would be so many possibilities? Better yet, who would have expected Sheppard to stay in one spot for so long?

Then again, how could he leave with McKay's nonstop talking and questions? John knew it was what Rodney did when he was scared or just uncomfortable in general, and in this case, John could think of a few reasons for McKay to be feeling both. Luckily, they had gotten past the 'I'm crazy' stage from McKay, and John was now talking with the McKay he knew. Maybe a slightly more jumpy and freaked out McKay, but McKay nonetheless.

Unlike John, McKay had been unable to sit still. He paced, coming back to check the computer every-so-often, then blurted out more statistics, facts, or questions. John felt for him, he really did, because he knew McKay was truly in a horrible position and John realized that and felt guilty for putting him there.

"Well, this must be why you won't wake up," McKay said for the fourth time, as he paced the room and stopped at his white board.

"Must be," John agreed without really listening. He had recently given up on trying to follow McKay's scattered thoughts.

Rodney continued as if he didn't even hear Sheppard. "Keller _did_ mentioned something about swelling in the brain, but that may not be the only reason. I would assume having no soul would be potentially problematic and could be another factor hindering you waking up…"

"_Potentially _problematic?" John retorted with a smirk. "Try _very _problematic."

"No, see you're just assuming that's the only reason you're not waking up. Despite what I may say about the medical profession at times, it does seem to have some logic to it's reasoning. You got your ass kicked, and you're not waking up. Happens all the time. Besides, you could probably wake up without your soul and just be really blank-faced and unaware of your surroundings…"

"You've been reading too many Harry Potter books if you think that a person can live without a soul." John stopped, then smiled mischievously. "On second thought, you may be right. Seeing as how _you've_ made it so long without a soul, I may have hope after all."

"Oh-har-dee-har-har, Colonel. I see you're still your charming self, body or not."

"Of course. But I would _love _to have my body back, even if that means weeks of physical therapy," he said, remembering the deteriorated state his body was in.

McKay didn't reply to this and John saw his expression change as he, too, remembered the shape John was in back in the infirmary. A somber atmosphere filled the room, but John was used to it by now; it had happened plenty of times since Rodney had agreed to help him.

"Probably won't be much physical therapy, actually," John said quickly, trying to stay positive for both himself and McKay. "My arm looks busted up, but I didn't notice anything wrong with my legs."

Rodney shook his head, "Hairline fracture. Left ankle."

"Best kind you can get," John replied with a shrug. "Beyond that, I'd say two or three weeks in the infirmary at most, then a couple weeks of light duty. Same 'ole, same 'ole." John made sure he said all of this in a very nonchalant tone.

"You've got this all planned out, don't you?" McKay asked with a ghost of a smile.

"Sure do. Now all I need to do is get my body back."

"In the Ancient Database we trust," McKay said under his breath.

The truth was, John was losing confidence in finding a device capable of this situation in the Database, and he was fairly certain McKay was doing the same. They had held out hope for a couple of hours, but they were still having no luck, and if it yielded no results, John was not ready to give in to Rodney's "we're screwed" philosophy.

"And if it doesn't work…" John began.

"I thought we already discussed this," McKay snapped, sounding suddenly irritated. "We're screwed. Don't know how much clearer I can make that, or does your spirit brain misinterpret simple statements?"

"McKay…"

"If there's no device, then we have nowhere to start. It would be like trying to find needle in a haystack, minus the needle."

"So what you're saying is," John said, his tone a little more forceful than before, "that if you can't find a device on here, we give up. Just like that."

"Dammit Sheppard," McKay spat, "I don't know! I'm a scientist, okay? We rely on facts and statistics and… devices and stuff like that. Not random voices of our dying friends telling us that their souls split from their bodies. I'm doing my best, here."

"And I believe you. Just try for some damn optimism." John sighed and sunk further into his chair. He was probably a little harsher than he should have been, but he just couldn't bear to accept total failure. John was pretty sure there was going to be nothing in that Database; a part of him had known it from the start. So where would that leave him? Screwed? He hoped not. No, there had to be a reason he was here, and that reason had to be his second chance at life.

Neither one spoke for a while after that. It was like a cloud had settled over their heads, raining the reality of the situation down upon them. For the next hour and a half, John spent his time looking back and forth between the computer and McKay. The longer he stared at McKay, the more aware John became of how unhealthy the man looked. The bags beneath his eyes were more pronounced than ever and his every move was jumpy. Over the last couple of hours, John had noticed the scientist's jittery state intensify greatly. The only time John remembered seeing McKay this bad off was whenever Atlantis was in a crisis and he was forced to skip sleep to ensure the city's safety. And after all of those times, when the danger had been eliminated and everyone could rest, McKay always experienced a crash or sorts, where all the lack of sleep and cups of coffee caught up with him.

Despite the terrible situations Atlantis had found herself in, John had never seen Rodney _this _bad.

"When was the last time you ate or slept?" John asked after a while.

"Why?" McKay snapped. "Are you my keeper now?"

John laughed. "No McKay, but you won't be much use to me if you pass out or fall asleep on your feet. Or worse, have a hypoglycemic attack, or whatever happens when you don't eat." That was only half truthful because John was also worried about McKay. He would choose this fate any day over putting Rodney in danger.

"Thanks for the concern, Colonel, but I'll have you know I ate breakfast this morning."

"And that was, what, eighteen hours ago?" John asked, glancing at the nearest clock which read 2:00 AM.

McKay's head snapped around to look at it as well and seemed surprised.

"And you didn't even mention the last time you slept," John urged, though he was fairly certain he knew when McKay had last slept. The beating had taken place almost four days ago, and he wouldn't put it past Rodney to have stayed awake for the better part of those days.

"Well, I didn't see how it was any of your damn business, but I've been sleeping just fine."

"Right," Sheppard replied skeptically. "Well, I think I may walk around."

"What? Why?" McKay piped upddenly, ditching the pissed off tone for that of concern.

John frowned. "Because how many chances will I get to walk through these hallways and be able to do whatever I want? Besides, I'll be losing these abilities soon enough. Actually, I probably won't be able to walk for a while when I get my body back, so I might as well take advantage of what I've got, while I've got it."

McKay didn't say anything, just continued to stare, perplexed, in John's direction.

"Look, there's nothing either of us can do until the search is done," John said, motioning toward the computer despite the fact Rodney couldn't see the gesture. "Why don't you get some food and take a nap, okay?"

McKay scowled. "There you go again acting like my father…"

"Bye, McKay," John said as he began to exit the lab.

"Wait," Rodney said all of the sudden. John turned around to look at him and waited for him to say something.

"Just don't… don't go into any bright lights, or anything, okay?"

John smiled. This was usually said as a joke between people, but John knew that it meant a lot more in this situation. If John was stuck between life and death, then he could go either way at any time, and they both knew that.

"I'll be back," John assured, "I promise. Now, get some sleep. I get sick just looking at you."

With that, John left Rodney standing in the middle of his lab. He walked for a while, looking at the halls of Atlantis in a whole knew light. The truth was, his "disability" provided the chance to do things he normally wouldn't get the chance to do. For example, he could find that one scientist he couldn't stand, give him a good shove, and take solace in the fact that he didn't actually hurt the bastard. And while sometimes he _really _did want to knock the guy out, he would never do it for real. This way, he still got to hit the guy, but leave no lasting effects.

Or he could go and sit with his men and see them when they weren't on duty. As long as he was around, they were under his command and they were soldiers, but John knew full well that when the commanding officer wasn't around, soldiers became normal people. Truth was, he kind of missed that. His best friends and closest companions had always been the people he fought beside. The same was true now as he thought about his team, but when it came down to it, being in command changed everything. He wouldn't mind slipping into the military rec room and seeing what went on in there. Not to get anyone in trouble, but to see them as people.

The unfortunate fact in the Pegasus Galaxy was that people died a lot, especially soldiers, and sometimes, John didn't even know their names. He did his best to talk to all of them at least once besides their initial orientation, but sometimes they died only a short time after arriving on Atlantis, and in those times, they were just soldiers. Expendable. John couldn't stand that, because every life was worth saving; he knew that. But when he knew them - their name, their story, anything - they were people. They were worth more than just saving. The problem was, John's opportunities to talk to his soldiers were constantly diminishing.

But this state of being allowed him to do all of that. Of course, they couldn't see or hear him, but he could work with a one way street for now.

John decided that the rec room would be one of his first stops, but before that, he wanted to be with the rest of his team. Apart from seeing McKay, he hadn't been able to be with Ronon or Teyla much lately, and John wanted to change that.

Even though he had forced the thought in the back of his head, John still knew deep down that he could leave this world at any minute and never get a chance to say what he wanted to say. But for right now, he was not going to say goodbyes, but to observe people when they didn't know he was there. John laughed at the thought; it brought a whole new meaning to "Big Brother is watching."

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **I know, I know. Another long wait. But the good news is that I survived Tropical Storm Fay! My computer kind of went on the fritz after our power went out one time, but I think I got it under control. Anyways, I _plan _on getting this story out sooner now. It's getting so hard to keep it going with school now, so the faster I get it out, the less I have on my plate so.. let's hope for that.

**Thanks: **My beta's/helpers: _Sandgnat _and _Ruffles. _You both are my heros. And of course, to everyone who has continued to read and review. You don't know how much that means to me.

**Special Sad Note: **I'm sure you all know the terrible news about SGA's cancellation. Well, I hate it but as far as I'm concerned, there's still plenty of stories left for these amazing characters!!

**In Between - VI**

* * *

John continued to make his way through the halls of Atlantis, taking his time and taking in the sights. He kept telling himself that his need to take in as much as possible was not due to his belief that he was going to die, but simply because he didn't do it often enough. He lived in the Lost City, for God's sake! He could remember all the legends and movies and books about this place, and now here he was. Living in a legend.

Nothing looked different from normal, actually. Even though it was very early in the morning, there were still people bustling about as usual, getting work done and preparing for missions or more experiments. Either way, life was functioning like normal. Except for John, of course, but the world didn't stop because he was in the infirmary. Besides, even he could admit he ended up in the infirmary quite a bit.

Every now and then, he would overhear someone's conversations about him. Things like, "_He's been out for almost four days!_" and "_I'm not sure he'll luck out of this one._" John had to frown at these sorts of comments; some support would be nice. At least he hadn't heard anyone speaking ill of him yet.

He continued to roam around Atlantis, always knowing where he wanted to end up, but taking his time to get there. After a few moments of debating where to go first, he had decided on the gym. He had heard someone mention Ronon being in there, and John hadn't seen enough of the big guy.

As John neared the entrance of the gym, he was quickly distracted by two Marines standing outside the door.

"You don't want to go in there," Lieutenant Landon told Lieutenant Manning before he entered the gym. "Ronon's basically slaughtering anyone who goes in."

"Why?" Manning asked. "Is it about the colonel? I know Ronon has been pretty pissed since it happened."

"Do you blame him? _Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard_ killed by a bunch of space punks after he's survived several Wraith attacks, Replicators, took out an entire army and did God knows what else? I wouldn't mind going to that planet and knocking some people around myself," Landon replied bitterly.

John listened to the conversation and felt strange. Landon was right; it wasn't a very glamorous way to go out, especially since John had survived the Middle East and being thrown directly into the Pegasus Galaxy.

Manning nodded in agreement. "Well, they've sent some people back, right? Have you heard anything?"

"Yeah. Major Lorne and a few others went back to the planet, but from what I understand, it was just a group of kids who have caused problems in the past. Lucas was a part of the team that went back and he told me that the worst punishment the kids can get is a few weeks in their jail-thing and some public punishment."

"Like a flogging?" Manning asked, sounding almost excited about the possibility.

Landon chuckled resentfully, "I wish. They'll probably just be stripped to their skivvies and have to stand there for a day."

Sheppard thought about it, and he wasn't sure he would want the people who beat him whipped. Sure, they screwed up a lot of things when they did, but getting whipped was pretty serious. Especially if they were just a rebellious group of teens. John had been one of those himself, and while he hadn't gone around attacking random people, he had done some questionable things himself.

"I heard he took a few of them out," Manning continued. John's ears perked up at this; he didn't remember the beating too well, but now that it was mentioned, he did remember firing his gun a couple of times.

"Oh yeah," Landon said sounding almost prideful. "Lucas said Colonel Sheppard did a number on quite a few of them. Shot a couple of 'em too, but he didn't kill any."

"Well I think the colonel would want it that way," Manning said, but got defensive when Landon looked at him skeptically. "He'll only kill people when he has to; that's one thing I've always respected about him."

John had to smile at this. It felt good to hear someone say it.

"Yeah, but he was getting the shit beat out of him. I mean, have you seen him?"

"No, have you?"

"No, but I've heard he looks terrible," Landon answered swiftly. "The point is, the people were killing him so he had every right to shoot to kill."

Manning shrugged, "I still don't think Colonel Sheppard would try to kill a bunch of teens. You know, if it was as bad as I've been hearing it was, he probably didn't know who was attacking him or what he was doing anyway."

This, John had to agree with. As much as he would like to pretend like he knew exactly what he was doing that night, he had to admit that he was pretty lost. However, he _did _know who was attacking him and in the beginning, he was well aware that he was fighting back. But after a while, he had let his body and instincts take over until even they gave up.

John pushed that terrible moment in which he was welcoming death out of his mind, and decided that he had heard enough from the two soldiers. He pushed past them and into the gym, just in time to see Ronon body slam some poor guy into the mat. John winced at the sight, knowing that the guy's air had been brutally knocked from his lungs.

"You need to focus more," Ronon grumbled.

The poor Marine nodded shakily between gasps for air, and eventually scuttled off the mat. Sheppard watched Ronon look around for any more takers, but when the Marine exited, the gym was left empty except for Ronon and John's spirit.

Ronon suddenly got extremely pissed, and punched the innocent punching bag, almost knocking it over.

"Whoa!" John said, getting as close as he dared to the enraged Satedan. "Calm down, big guy..."

But Ronon continued to vent. After hitting the punching bag, he swung his arms behind his head and began pacing intensely around the room. John couldn't think of a time when he looked more like a caged lion.

"Dammit!" Ronon shouted as he picked up a medicine ball and hurled it at the wall. John was thoroughly surprised it didn't burst from the impact.

Sheppard was about to say something else to soothe Ronon, but stopped himself. It made no difference, really. And not just because Sheppard couldn't be heard, but simply because Ronon needed much more than someone telling him to calm down. Usually, John would try to soothe him as much as possible, but otherwise let him vent. Better yet, if Teyla was around, John would let her take over. Either way, there was nothing he could do for Ronon right now.

"I'm gonna be fine," John said finally, feeling the need to talk whether he could be heard or not, "so you can chill out. Just give me some time, okay? I'll figure it out. And if it's those kids you're pissed about… just let it go. I'm sure you were one hell of a rebel when you were growing up. They'll get what's coming to them one way or another."

Ronon continued to pace the room, but he had at least stopped hitting things.

"Anyways, I've got McKay helping out now, so I have a good chance."

John didn't really know what to say after that. Not that it mattered, particularly, but it seemed like he was actually doing something. Ronon continued to pace around the gym, sometimes hitting something or throwing something else, but always moving.

He did not look as bad as McKay did, but he did seem more rugged than usual. More wild, if that was possible. And very uneasy. Actually, he looked a lot like the first time John had seen Ronon back in that cave. John continued to observe the Satedan until his eyes came to rest on the man's wrist.

"Hey," Sheppard laughed, still staring at Ronon's wrist. "Is that my wrist band?"

Sure enough, the small black band across Ronon's wrist was the same one that Sheppard always wore. He couldn't say why he always had to have it; it had just become part of his uniform.

There was something about the idea of Ronon wearing it while John couldn't that made him feel good. It felt like Ronon was watching over John and keeping him in good hands while he was hurt. As corny as that sounded, it was how John felt and he knew that Ronon reacted very differently to situations than most people.

John watched Ronon just a little longer before deciding he was done. Ronon was Ronon and would always remain as thus, thankfully, and John had said all he needed to say for the time being. Things were going as they usually went. Ronon was a bit more edgier, obviously, but it was still Ronon.

Eventually, Ronon seemed to finish, something John was thankful for as it was in the wee hours of the morning and Ronon still hadn't gotten any sleep. John and Ronon would often stay up late and spar but this was pushing it, even for them. John followed Ronon out the door and walked with him until Ronon disappeared into his quarters. Content that Ronon was getting some rest, John continued walking down the deserted hallways with no real destination in mind.

He knew the majority people would be asleep by now, so that took away most of his fun. Realizing that he was close to the labs, John decided he would head back to McKay's lab. He walked in and was temporarily surprised to find that McKay was no where in sight. However, after walking around to the computer, John saw McKay slumped over the desk, snoring loudly with drool dribbling down his chin.

John smiled to himself and was pleased to see that McKay was getting some sleep. No, it wasn't proper arrangements for a good sleep, but with McKay, any rest was good rest. John glanced at the computer and saw that the Database was still being searched. He sighed and found a chair over by the wall and slid into it. He wasn't tired, but there was nothing else to do, really.

He started thinking about his predicament more. A part of him had been wanting to give in to his body's demands even if that meant death. John had forced those feelings to the back of his mind, but as he sat in McKay's lab, that part of him resurfaced and he was left silently hoping for his body back no matter the cost.

Soon after the new feeling emerged, John began to feel weird. It wasn't a bad weird, but was almost everything was in slow motion, like just before falling. Then came a point where John wondered if the soul was actually capable of sleep after all as his eyes began to droop…

_oOo_

_His every molecule felt unnaturally heavy. He couldn't move at all, and briefly wondered if he was supposed to be able to move. Eventually, he became aware that he did, in fact, have a body, but had absolutely no control over it. _

_He couldn't even breathe on his own; something was doing it for him. In and out, in and out. He at least wanted control over that, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. _

_He could also hear familiar, yet impossible to place sounds. For a while, he couldn't make them out or just didn't understand their purposes, but he came to the conclusion that it was beeping. Incessant, constant beeping. As annoying as it was, it also provided an odd sense of comfort. Something constant in an inconsistent world. A base to lean on if all else fails._

"_Dr. Keller, "John heard someone whisper nervously. Someone physically close to him, but everything else about them seemed so far away. Their tone confused him as much as he name, 'Dr. Keller'. He felt like he should recognize the name as well as the voice that said it, but he couldn't get past the unbearably thick haze clouding his mind._

_"Is ... waking up?"_

_There were more hushed whispers for a moment, then a much louder voice invaded his mind. He quickly did all he could to block it out._

"_John," it said, trying to penetrate his serenity. He began to lose control; wherever he was, he did not like it. It felt like he was trapped in something and he couldn't stand that. As the voices continued, he tried hard to go back to where ever he was before coming here…_

_OOo_

John jolted back into existence and was, for a moment or two, completely unsure of where he was or how he had gotten there. Eventually, he was sure that he was in McKay's lab and soon remembered everything that had led up to this point. But that dream, or whatever it was, that he had just had was odd. He could barely remember the details, but remembered the way he had felt.

"Damn!" he heard McKay shout. John turned to the scientist and saw him standing above his computer, looking utterly lost and angry.

"What is it?" John asked, then watched as McKay practically jumped out of his skin. He didn't answer at first, but started pacing madly, every now and then coming back to the computer.

"McKay!" John tried again. "What happened?"

"Nothing!" McKay yelled back. "Absolutely nothing happened. There's no device. No device, no proof, no reason for anything!"

"McKay…"

"No! Don't _McKay _me! There's nothing I can do. Nothing at all because this isn't real, and if it is… well, I just don't know, okay?"

"There must be something!!" Sheppard roared back, still not prepared to accept that his fight for life was over.

"No, there isn't! There's nothing we can do," McKay argued back, his voice raising. "And you know what else? Just for the record, maybe there's not supposed to be any way to fix this," McKay said, still pacing wildly and looking more and more unruly by the second.

John quieted for a few moments. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're supposed to die!" McKay blurted suddenly. But right after his lips formed the last word, McKay's hands flew to his mouth and he looked distinctly like he had said the nastiest thing possible for one to say.

This completely shut Sheppard's mouth. It felt like something had hit him hard and fast. For a moment or two, he couldn't think about what McKay had just said, but when it cleared, he was left feeling completely dumfounded. He had not even considered it a possibility that this existence was meant for anything other than doing everything he could to stay alive.

'_Maybe you're supposed to die.' _What if McKay was right?

"Sheppard," he heard McKay say quietly. "Sheppard, I didn't mean that."

But maybe he did. And maybe he did for a reason. John had assumed he had been put in this existence so he could have the opportunity to get his life back, but what if that wasn't it at all? People always talked about how they wished they could talk to their loved ones just once more before they passed away, see them again. What if that was the purpose?

"Sheppard!" McKay said again, louder this time. "John, come on! We'll… we'll think of something else. I'm sure we could go through the computer again and see if there are any devices in another area that weren't entered. I've seen a few cases where the device wasn't complete, so they didn't put it in," McKay said, already clicking away at his computer.

But before either of them had time to say anything more on the subject, the lab's intercom clicked on and Colonel Carter's voice room filled the room.

"_McKay?" _she demanded, sounding annoyed and slightly concerned.

Rodney frowned and was temporarily speechless. "Yes, what do you want?"

"_May I ask why you haven't been answering my hails?"_

"Has it occurred to you, I wonder, that I just might be doing something that required my full attention?"

"_McKay, I thought you, of all people, would understand the importance of staying in contact at all times."_

"And what do you know, we in contact right now. So I really don't see your side of the argument right now," McKay snapped. John listened to the bickering, still in a slight shock at Rodney's previous words, and was suddenly reminded of why most people were unable to tolerate the scientist.

"Now, unless something has happened that simply cannot go without my expertise, I would like to get back to my project."

"_As a matter of fact," _Carter replied with a great deal of restrain in her voice, "_something _has _happened and you're needed in the jumper bay immediately._"

John frowned at this, wondering what could have happened that would require McKay. Usually jumper malfunctions were first brought to Zelenka's attention.

"The jumper bay? That sounds like a job for Zelenka."

"_McKay, Lt. Strickland's team is trapped in a jumper that decided to just stop working. It's currently sitting in the middle of a raging war on M4X-984,_" Carter explained angrily, her previous restrain gone entirely. "_I am not going to sit here and argue with you while their lives are in danger. You are to report to the jumper bay _immediately."

The intercom switched off and left the room utterly silent. John could once again see McKay struggling against what needed to be done and what he wanted to do.

"McKay. Go." John said.

"No," said McKay, his eyes searching the area John was standing in. "Zelenka can handle it. I've got to…"

"No, Rodney, the only thing you've _got_ to do is get down there and save those people," John cut him off forcefully. "Now."

McKay did not move and John could see the frustration and fear in his eyes.

"I'm coming with you McKay," John assured him. "Those are still my men out there and there's nothing I can do about it right now. But you can. And I'm sure as hell not going to occupy their only chance with a seemingly hopeless effort. Now go."

McKay stood silent and still for a moment, then promptly turned away from John and headed out of his lab. John turned and followed his lead.

"And it's not a hopeless effort," John heard McKay mumble as they stepped into a transporter.

Despite a growing sense of dread that John wasn't meant to make it through all of this, he still hoped that McKay's statement was true.

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Sorry, not a lot of time. Thanks to all the normal people!

**In Between - VII**

* * *

"Alright, I'm here," McKay announced as he walked into the jumper bay. "Now can someone please explain to me how a jumper's power just _shuts off? - _Oh wait, if you knew that, I wouldn't be here, right?"

John looked around at the dozen or so faces in the room, and couldn't suppress a smile at how ticked off they all looked. Of course McKay had been called in because no one else was able to figure it out, but no one would ever admit that. And for good reason. Rodney McKay's head was big enough as it was.

"So what's the story?"

Colonel Carter sighed. "Approximately twenty minutes ago, we were hailed by Lieutenant Strickland who informed us that while trying to retreat from M4X-984, with no warning or known reason, the jumper's power was lost, prompting an emergency landing."

"And how long ago was this?" McKay asked, earning a few frowns from the others. John had heard as clear as day when the incident had occurred; Carter had _just _said it was twenty minutes ago.

"Twenty minutes ago," Zelenka answered, glancing nervously at the others.

"Rodney, when's the last time you slept?" Carter asked suspiciously. That's when John remembered just how terrible McKay was looking and realized it was just as obvious to everyone else.

"Why is everyone asking me that?!" he exclaimed, looking around wildly at the others.

"McKay," John whispered, though it was unnecessary. "Focus."

McKay nodded and took a deep breath. "Right. The jumper, which one was it?"

"Five."

"Five?! I thought I made it very clear that under no circumstances was that jumper to be used!"

One of the smaller, yet remarkably brave scientists held up her hand in objection at the statement. "Not true, sir. You said that the jumper in question was only to be used in an emergency situation due to possible complications as a result of recent tests that were conducted on it. However, you _did _tell us that under no circumstances was Jumper One to be used…"

"Thanks for that, Kingsley. Now if you would be so kind as to not open your mouth again, we might actually be able to work some lifesaving into the schedule before Christmas," McKay snapped.

John winced at McKay's sharp words and the expression on Kingsley's face. He was quite sure that the small scientist intended on following McKay's orders for the remainder of her life.

"Try not to be too hard on them, McKay," John warned. He received a nice little huff at this, but the scientist snapped back into action.

"Alright, alright," sighed McKay with a wave of his hand. "Zelenka, I'm going to assume you've at least set up a simulation of the events according to what the good lieutenant has reported, yes?" At Zelenka's swift nod, McKay continued by addressing the other scientists in the room. "Leighton, I want a constant audio feed with that jumper. Mosley and Knotts, you'll be recreating every test that was performed on Jumper Five, on Jumper One."

McKay stopped for a split second to take a breath before continuing.

"Zelenka, transfer the data you've received from Lt. Strickland to Jumper One as soon as the dynamic duo complete their fairly simple task - I want those jumpers damn near identical. Everyone got that?"

Heads nodded and then proceeded to basically run to their designated areas. John shook his head in admiration of McKay. The man had a lot of flaws, but when he was needed to fix any kind of scientific issue, he almost always succeeded with flying colors. It may have been the fact that John's ability to help out with the situation was almost non-existent, but he truly realized just how capable McKay was at dealing with a crisis. A scientific crisis, at least.

"Rodney," Colonel Carter said softly when all the other scientists were busy at work. "Lt. Strickland's team was forced to use Jumper Five even though you had warned against it; it was vital to our trade agreements that someone was sent down there. The sudden onset of a war was not a foreseen event, of course but… from what I understand, there was nothing wrong with Jumper One. Now, I don't know if you have other reasons for not wanting that jumper to be used…"

John's eyebrows furrowed at this interesting fact. He looked at Rodney and saw a hint of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"And who told you that there was nothing wrong with Jumper One?"

"It doesn't matter," Carter said, brushing off his question. "Rodney, did I send a team out in a dysfunctional jumper when a perfectly good one was available?"

Rodney's mouth opened and closed a few times as the scientists fought to find words, but eventually, he regained composure and put on his signature _You're-insulting-my-intelligence _face.

"It is one thing to pull me from my project that is more important than you could ever imagine, but it is an entirely different and completely unacceptable thing to insinuate that I would _lie _about something as intricate to this expedition as our jumpers."

Both John and Carter gaped at the sudden explosion from Rodney. It wasn't just his words, but it was everything. His face had turned beet red and he was trembling. Overall, he seemed to have lost all control and in a very short amount of time.

"You're right," Carter said apologetically. "I'm sorry." She then turned, and left without another word.

Once Carter was gone, John continued to watch McKay with a growing sense of concern. The circles beneath his eyes were darkening and his hands would not stop trembling. John felt himself torn between the belief that McKay should be in the infirmary, and the knowledge that his own men were still trapped out there and McKay was probably the only one that could save them.

"McKay, are you alright?" he asked, looking around to make sure there was no one nearby.

"Stop talking," McKay whispered.

"You look like your about to keel over at any second."

McKay bit his lip, but continued to work on his computer.

"Okay, just get to the point that Zelenka and the others can handle the rest, and go to sleep."

"There you go again," McKay said bitterly under his breath. "Acting like my father…"

"No, McKay. I'm trying to keep you from working yourself to death. You look terrible."

McKay stopped working and exhaled angrily. "And so do you, Sheppard. That's why I _need_ to be in my lab, figuring this out."

John felt another wave of guilt hit him. McKay was not doing well - it didn't take a doctor to figure that much out - and yet John knew the scientist would continue to work until John's dilemma was fixed or until he was physically unable to work anymore, and by the looks of it, he was heading for the latter.

"Okay, okay, just… we'll talk about it when you're done here," John said, deciding it was best to continue the subject a little later. "You _are_ almost done, right?"

McKay sighed a sigh that John knew was intended to be an annoyed one, but it came out sounding more weary than anything.

"Not much longer."

"And Rodney…"

"What?"

"Why did you tell them there was something wrong with Jumper One?"

"Why is everyone questioning my…"

"It was perfectly fine four days ago," John explained. "Besides, I've grown to recognize certain McKay expressions and you were hiding something."

"Oh, give me a break…"

"McKay…"

"It's _your _jumper. _Our _jumper," he said finally, and quickly continued. "And I know what you're thinking; if I hadn't done it, that team would have taken the functional jumper and would have had a successful mission - but I disagree with that. If it wasn't their jumper losing power, it would have been a stray missile from the fighting natives, and then we would have been in a far worse conundrum as there would have been nothing we could do to help them except wait for the _Daedalus_."

Rodney sighed wearily and added, "There were no scheduled off-world missions that involved jumper's for a full week. I figured if you weren't awake by then…"

"McKay?" Zelenka asked, causing McKay to practically jump out of his skin. "Are you - _talking to yourself?_"

Rodney managed to regain his composure. "Yes, Radek, so what else is new? I tend to talk to myself when I'm lacking a good, intellectual conversation."

"Yes, but this was more - _elaborate _than most."

"And you find that _surprising_ given the people I'm surrounded by?"

Zelenka seemed to get the hint and retreated. John, however, took a step closer to the distraught scientist. McKay had been holding Jumper One for him. John knew that this was a sign of friendship from McKay and while he didn't agree with Rodney's theory that Lt. Strickland's mission was a destined failure, John couldn't help but feel _remembered. _

"Thank you," John said after he was sure no one was in earshot this time. It looked like Rodney was about to respond, but decided against it. Which worked for John as neither of them were very open, emotional people.

Over the coarse of an hour, the team of scientists worked tirelessly around the clock. Well, all of them except McKay. He continued to work and kept everyone on track, but his growing lethargy and periods of spacing out increased at a constant rate. A couple times, John saw Colonel Carter and the others throw worried glances his way, but they all seemed to realize that he was still needed and more importantly, to argue with the scientist now would be futile.

But John couldn't help but feel responsible for the man's current state. McKay had been awake for far too long, stressing out over finding a cure for Sheppard's condition. John hadn't seen him eat, only witnessed him down cup after cup of coffee and the only time he'd seen McKay sleep was when he walked in on the scientist sprawled out on his desk. Not the best sleeping arrangements and certainly not the best conditions to provide the body with any real rest.

Bottom line, John couldn't think of any reason why McKay was still able to walk and talk, let alone lead an expedition to save men that were half a galaxy away.

It also didn't help that John felt completely helpless. He couldn't convince McKay to help himself and there was nothing he could do to help his men. He couldn't even offer them words of encouragement, even though he knew they could handle themselves. It just all-around sucked.

"McKay! Colonel Carter!" Zelenka called, prompting several heads to pop up around the room. "I got it! I think I got it!"

Everyone dropped what they were doing and surrounded Zelenka, eager to hear any lead the man had.

"After recreating Jumper Five's data on Jumper One, we were able catch the glitch that occurred with the update to the HUD unit. Apparently, it was using a bit too much power which overloaded the circuit, causing the HUD generator to shut down. That, of course, made it impossible for Lt. Strickland to remain properly connected to the jumper's systems, and _caput, _power was lost."

John felt his heart picking up speed at the thought of rescuing his men, and saw the excitement in the others as well.

"Can you fix it?" Colonel Carter asked.

That's when the brave little scientist that could - otherwise known as Dr. Kingsley - dropped in to the conversation. "Yes, Colonel. We believe we possess the proper code that will enable us to interface with the jumper's system."

"The connection won't last long, though," another scientist said.

"A minute a most -"

"- But it should be enough to override the recent updates, allowing Lt. Strickland to regain control of his vessel, and make it back to the 'gate," Zelenka finished with a self-satisfied smile.

"Fantastic," Carter said, relief obvious in her voice. "Let's bring 'em home."

John, still smiling at the wonderful news, turned back to Rodney, only to have the smile wiped clear of his face. McKay was now leaning heavily on the wall, one hand firmly against it while the other trembled uncontrollably over his eyes. He kept his head down, as though the dim lighting of the jumper bad was too much, and John could see his knees start to wobble.

"McKay!" John said as he ran towards the man. "Hey, McKay, stay with me - We need some help over here!" John called behind him, temporarily forgetting that his call fell on deaf ears. "Hey!"

He was now holding Rodney up, though in his mind, he knew that it wasn't really happening; he knew that the second he let go, McKay would be sprawled out on the floor, having never been helped by John at all. But he didn't care. It _felt _like he was helping.

"Come on!" John shouted angrily, becoming frustrated at the fact that no one noticed that Rodney was about to collapse.

"Shep'prd?" Rodney slurred.

"Yeah. Yeah, buddy, I'm still here."

"Gotta get - to lab…"

"Shhh Rodney, it's okay," John tried, turning to face the other six people in the room that were apparently oblivious to their surroundings. "I'll be right back," John told McKay, deciding to get closer to the others; anything that might help.

"No! Don' leave," McKay said a little louder, though still not loud enough for the other's to hear. But it gave John a very good idea.

"I'm leaving, Rodney," John said, returning to the scientist's side. John winced at the saliva that was now running down Rodney's cheeks and his bloodshot eyes and hated that his plan involved freaking the already distraught scientist out. "I'm going into the light…"

"No!" Rodney shouted, his throat hoarse.

Now, _that _got some attention.

John released Rodney and turned to see Colonel Carter running towards them. When John turned back to McKay, he was reminded of how he was unable to physically interact with his surroundings. John had done all he could do keep McKay from falling to the floor, but the fact remained that that had all been in his head. Now, not only was McKay on the floor, he had received a nice welt on his head where skull met concrete.

"We need a medical team to the jumper bay, now," Carter called into her headset. She then proceeded the kneel beside McKay and held his hand. John stood by and watched. He felt like he had been dropped in a tank of ice water and as he watched McKay hold on to consciousness, a part of him broke.

"Everyone else continue to work!" she called to the scientists that had halted their work to watch their fallen comrade. They reluctantly followed the colonel's orders but continued to shoot worried glances their way.

"Shep'prd… I can help. Don' go…," Rodney muttered, pulling John's attention back to McKay.

"Shhh, Rodney. Help is on the way, just hang in there," Carter soothed.

As Rodney finally gave in and fell unconscious and as the medical team came in and whisked him away, John felt something completely new wash over him.

This was his fault. All his fault. McKay would have never been in this position if John hadn't guilt tripped him into it. Who did he think he was, barging into the scientist's lab, scaring the hell out of him and forcing him to work endlessly in an already deteriorated state?

John had known from the beginning that Rodney wasn't up to par. Had known that he had been neglecting his body's needs, and yet John had insisted that McKay come up with a solution.

But, that wasn't the only realization John was coming to. "_What if you're supposed to die?_" - That's what McKay had said and John had considered it then, but now, he _knew. _It's seemed so obvious now that his attempt to stay alive had inadvertently put Rodney's life in danger. It wasn't meant to be that way.

John was _meant_ to die, and for once in his life, he was going to accept it.

**TBC**

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Don't drop this story yet because of that last line... will update soon and sorry if it's not where you all wanted to see the story go. I know it's very different and not very popular, but I hope at least some of you are enjoying it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Quick Notes: **Another long wait. I know I suck. Sorry guys and thanks to all of you for holding out and dealing with my inconsistancy. For your wait, I hope you take this extra long chapter as an apology. I'm so very wrapped up in school right now, which is why I wanted to get this story completely out before summer ended, but glorious Real Life does what it wants.

Just so everyone knows, there are a total of 10 chapters, so we're almost done.

**Thanks: **To _Sandgnat _and _Ruffles _and to everyone who has read. Ever more thanks to those who have taken the time to comment.

**Warning: **One of those wordy, emotional chapters. But, if you're willing to get some insight into what I think Sheppard is like and you got some time, then I hope you enjoy.

**In Between - VIII**

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John came flying around the corner into the infirmary after Rodney's gurney, beating Colonel Cater there by a few good yards. He could feel his body trembling, and not just out of fear for McKay. It was more than that now. It was his new realization that death was close that had him unable to stay still.

McKay was moved to a bed towards the center of the infirmary with a few nurses and Dr. Keller hovering over him. They were not frantic, per se, in their work but they were moving quickly and efficiently. John stayed back and watched from afar for a few minutes in a sort of daze but was snapped out of it when Colonel Carter entered the room.

"What is it?" she asked loudly, taking her place next to Ronon and Teyla. John hadn't even noticed that they were there until now, but sympathized with the concerned looks on their faces.

"He's experiencing a hypoglycemic attack but I think there's a little more to it," Dr. Keller explained quickly over the noise McKay was causing. John took a few steps closer and was able to get a better look.

Rodney looked horrible. The first thing John noticed was the way Rodney's heavy-lidded eyes were frantically searching the room as if he was looking for something that he couldn't find. He was mumbling a lot, though John couldn't quite make it out due to the oxygen mask. Apart from that, McKay was trembling and seemed oddly irritable, feebly attempting to push the nurse's hands away and every now and then, he would even try to remove his mask. John's eyes wandered to McKay's hairline and was surprised to see a small amount of blood seeping through his hair and staining his forehead.

"Rodney, I need you to stay still," Dr. Keller spoke forcefully, but her tone also held a sense of softness. She then turned to one of her nurses and said, "We need to hold down his arms so he doesn't pull the IV out.." The nurse nodded and proceeded to pin McKay's arms down. This didn't go over too well with the delirious McKay, who immediately began to thrash around more feverishly. At one point, he managed to get his arm that did not have an IV free from the nurse, and pushed his mask aside.

"Shep-Shep'rd," he slurred between heavy breaths. John felt the breath catch in his throat and wanted to say something, but couldn't think of what. "Shep'rd. Don' die. Please don' die…," Keller immediately turned to Teyla, who understood right away and came forth.

"Rodney," she cooed softly, gently placing her hand along the side of McKay's face. "John is here. He is alive, but you need to be calm. Do you hear me, Rodney?"

At her words, John felt himself calm down and was thankful to see Rodney do the same. Finally, it seemed as though the scientist's eyes had found someone to lock onto, and John couldn't think of anyone better than Teyla. McKay's muscles slowly loosened until he was lying completely limp on the infirmary bed. His eyes stayed glued on Teyla, who stared back with a sort of strength and reassurance John was sure he could never recreate.

"Don' go," John heard Rodney whisper so softly, it was barely audible.

"I will not leave your side," Teyla assured him.

Rodney closed his eyes for a few seconds and John wondered if he had fallen asleep. However, they popped open once more and were promptly back on Teyla. "I can help," Rodney slurred. "I can… help." This time, when Rodney's eyelids fell, they did not reopen. John could tell by the looks on everyone's faces that they didn't quite understand what Rodney was talking about, but John knew exactly what the scientist had meant. "_Don't go,_" and "_I can help,_" were both things that Rodney would be saying to John.

"He's unconscious," Keller reported, then turned back and ordered a few more things from the nurses. John watched as the tension that surrounded Rodney's bed lessened and the nurses followed out the doctor's orders. Teyla's hand had left Rodney's face, but had found a new home on the scientist's IV-free hand.

"What exactly happened?" Keller asked after everything had settled as much as it was going to.

"I'm not quite sure," Colonel Carter began. "We needed him to assist with a rescue mission of sorts, and he collapsed."

"Was there anything to suggest he was feeling… _off?"_

Carter hesitated for a moment and bit her lips. "Yeah. I mean, I guess you could say that. He looked - tired. Beyond tired, really. Maybe a little sick? Like he hadn't slept in a while."

"And you let him work like that?" Ronon growled.

Carter inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He was the only one who could get those men back, and he just may have succeeded. And yeah, he looked sick but it's Rodney McKay we're talking about here. When is he _not _needing sleep?"

"Every time you guys overwork him, he collapses or at least comes close to it."

"Ronon," Teyla warned softly.

"If I would have known this would happen, I wouldn't have asked. Or would have made him get some help," Carter said finally her voice full of guilt.

"It was not your fault, Colonel," Teyla said kindly with a pointed look at Ronon before turning to Keller. "Will Rodney be alright?" Dr. Keller nodded quickly, and Teyla continued. "He seemed convinced Colonel Sheppard was going to die. Is there any reason for this?"

John frowned at this and wondered if Teyla had been expecting Rodney to know more about John's condition than anyone else.

Keller shook her head. "Just delirium from his condition, which is common. I checked Colonel Sheppard right before I was called down and there's been no change. Well, there was a moment very early this morning when his brain waves showed some limited activity, but that's relatively normal and it hasn't happened sense."

John frowned and wondered if this statement held any importance, and suddenly remembered that odd dream he had had earlier that day in Rodney's lab. Had he been close to waking up at that point?

"What about Rodney?" Carter asked; a question that John was very eager to hear the answer to as well. McKay always went on and on about his hypoglycemia, but John had never seen an actual attack and didn't know what long-term effects it had on the body.

"He'll be okay," Dr. Keller answered. "We've administered glucagons, which will cause his liver to rapidly release its store of glucose. We should be seeing a dramatic improvement in the next few minutes. After that, we'll have to continue to administer consistent doses of glucose or sugar until his glucose levels are back to normal."

"Is loss of consciousness common?"

"It's not unheard of," Keller answered. "It usually only occurs with severe attacks, but given recent events," she said, glancing over at John's infirmary bed, "McKay neglecting his diet, among other things, is very probable.

"He also managed to give himself a pretty good knock on the head after collapsing; dizziness is one of the symptoms, so it's natural. Thankfully no concussion, however," Keller continued. "Regardless, the head wound along with days of insufficient amounts of sleep and nutrients has finally caught up with him."

"How could we have missed this?" Teyla asked quietly, issuing in a silence across the room. John stood by himself and felt like he had been hit by a truck.

"I didn't miss it," John said to himself. It was true; he had spent over a day with Rodney McKay and had seen the terrible shape the scientist had gotten himself into, and yet John had done nothing. Nothing except demand McKay's help, make him feel guilty for being hesitant to accept this strange occurrence, and making him literally go sick with worry. All of this was on John, and he knew it.

He took a few steps closer to Rodney's bed and found himself crouching beside it.

"I'm so sorry, Rodney," John said softly, not entirely aware of what he was saying. He could hear the others talking, but all he focused on was the man lying before him. "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have gotten you involved. I've known from the beginning that this…," he said, glancing around at the infirmary, "_existence _was all leading up to one thing, I just… I didn't _want _it. You'd think after all those near-death experiences and suicide missions I'd be eager to accept an easy way out, but… I guess I wasn't ready."

John sighed and glanced up at Rodney and his team standing around him. And while he was closer to slipping off into the unknown that death held, he still was not ready to make that step. Not without saying what he needed to.

He glanced at the people around him, and suddenly felt sick. He didn't want to be in the infirmary and he didn't want to say goodbye to his friends. At least not yet. Without further thought, John practically ran out of the infirmary, and let his legs to all the thinking.

He wandered the halls aimlessly, completely unaware of the world around him. He knew he was in a hallway in Atlantis, but beyond that, he just walked. It was weird how everything changed when he knew he was going to die. It wasn't as horrible as he would have imagined, but it was like being on a rollercoaster who's track was visibly unfinished. It was an inevitable disaster, and yet the possibility to have fun along the way was there. The idea was to enjoy the ride and when it was time to go, he would at least go voluntarily.

That was the difference between John Sheppard now, and John Sheppard yesterday; he was enjoying the ride. Well, maybe not enjoying it quite yet, but he wasn't agonizing about the possibilities anymore. He knew what was at the end of the road, and now, he could finally see it for what it was and savor what time he had left.

The question was, who did he want to see first? It was a cryptic question when he thought about it, but it was a necessary one. He didn't want to go back to McKay so soon and furthermore, the scientist would be the hardest to say goodbye to particularly because McKay could hear him. McKay would be last.

Then there was Teyla and Ronon, but John didn't feel he was ready to say goodbye to them yet either. He had a feeling his team would have to be last because he knew that they would be the hardest, and if he started with them, it might make his road nearly impossible to travel.

There _was _one other place, John thought. A place where he felt quite comfortable. He made his way towards the military's multipurpose room, purposefully taking the long way in order to take in all of Atlantis he possibly could before… well, before he lost his chance forever.

The military rec room was one of the many places he needed to go, knowing that Atlantis' defense would be there. More importantly, he hoped Lorne would be there. It would be the major who took John's place - temporarily or otherwise - once John was gone, and even if he couldn't be heard, John wanted to tell Lorne a few things. Besides, something deep inside John told him that everyone _could _actually hear him, even if they weren't aware of it.

He walked into the room, and was immediately aware of a much more somber atmosphere than the room usually held. Most of the time, it was bustling with energy; people playing videogames or pool on a table they had managed to smuggle in. How, though, was completely beyond John. It was as though something bad had happened, and John wondered if it had anything to do with his injuries. John liked to think that at least most of his men liked him, but he would have never assumed it would kill the mood as much as this.

John shrugged and walked in. Most people were listening to music or reading, not really talking to one another. John stared at them and looked at each and every one of their faces.

"You guys are…," he began, feeling foolish for addressing people who couldn't hear him, but he continued anyway. "You guys are… really, you know, good at what you do. I don't think I say that enough, but you've all done a great job at protecting this place and uh… I'm proud to have fought beside all of you."

That felt good. No one looked up, or anything, but John figured that if they could have heard him, they would have liked to hear those words. It was true though, what he said; he didn't tell them how much he appreciated them. They were all hard workers and as far as he knew, they would give up their lives for any other life on Atlantis. They were a good group.

"Alright guys, got some good news, and some bad news," someone announced, drawing everyone's attention, including John's, to the door to see his second in command walk in. "The good news is, Lt. Strickland and his team have successfully made it home." There was a moment of relief in the room as everyone smiled at this good news. "As for the bad news, I just checked and there's no change in Colonel Sheppard's condition. Still in a coma," Lorne said softly. The mood in the room worsened almost immediately. John looked around at his people, feeling honored.

"He's a strong man," Lorne spoke again, "and if anyone can make it, he can. Just… keep him in your thoughts and prayers."

A chorus of quiet "yes sir's" deafened the silence of the room.

John looked around again, remembering his main purpose for coming to this room. At first, he didn't see where Major Lorne had run off to, but after a second or two, he spotted the man in the otherwise vacant movie room. It was a small closet of a room that had been reserved solely for the purpose of movie-watching due to it's lack of lighting. John entered it and took a seat in his usual recliner across from Lorne's bench.

John examined the major, and noticed the unusual melancholy features in his usually bright face. All of these upset people were making John upset as well.

"Don't look so depressed, Lorne," John said with a smirk. "You're gunna get all of this here soon," he said, motioning around the small room.

"You'll get to run around different worlds, almost get killed on a daily basis, hopefully help a few people out and inevitably screw a lot up too… basically what you do now, it's just that people will start looking to you for all of the answers."

John continued to watch the major, and pretended like he could actually be heard. It made what he was saying mean more.

"Not that I'm worried about you, because I know you'll do fine but, I'll admit it gets pretty crazy," John explained. "It'll be hard, but just take a deep breath, and remember your goal: keep these people alive. It always comes down to that."

Lorne shifted then, placing his head in his hands and letting out a long sigh before rubbing his temples. It looked like he was in thinking hard about something.

"But don't forget to give some credit to the scientists," John warned. "That's the only thing I would fear when it comes to you; it's not too bad though. Just… they're smart and they're also some pretty good people to have around in a tough situation. Especially McKay. I know he can be… _difficult_, but if you push him enough and stroke his ego every once in a while, he can do just about anything."

John smiled wearily at the thought.

"Teyla and Ronon know how to handle him pretty well and I'm sure I don't have to explain the other benefits of having those two around. Teyla's great; you'll have no problems with her and Ronon… well he's a wild one, but if you can manage to gain his trust, he'll be one of the best guys you could possibly have around when things get rough."

John's smile faded as he thought about his team. The people he had gotten so close to over the last few years. His family. The time to see them and tell them what he needed to say was coming, but he was afraid. Afraid he would want to start the fight all over again.

"Lorne… _Evan,_" John corrected himself, feeling the use of the major's first name was needed. "You can do this. I know you can. You just gotta… you have to see that you're not alone in it. That's something I've always had a problem with, but it's true. Remember that."

John stood up now and was split between wishing Lorne could hear him and relief that he couldn't.

"Just take care," John finished, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Of Atlantis, and yourself."

That was all he could manage. His stomach felt like it was twisting itself into a knot and he dreaded the moment he would have to talk to his team. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to say goodbye when it came time to do so. It didn't help that until very recently, he had been telling them he would be fine. That he was going to get out of all of this and things would eventually be back to normal.

He had lied.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath and as he let it out, he felt the air and anxiety flow from both his lungs and mind. This was all counter-productive. He needed to be _enjoying _the ride, but if he kept freaking out about his next goodbyes and the unheard words he had said before, the end would come and he would regret the way he spent his last moments. It was not worth it.

Still, his team would be last. There was one other person he needed to talk to before it was time for his team. John began making his way back towards the heart of the city, knowing that Colonel Carter would be there somewhere. He needed to talk to her; it was essential. She had been forced to fill impossibly large shoes and had been, surprisingly, filling them well. In fact, John couldn't think of a commander he had ever respected more.

As he ascended the stairs up to the control room, John could see into Colonel Carter's office and was pleased to see that she was there, and that Lt. Strickland was leaving her office. That's when he remembered that his men had not technically been rescued when Rodney had collapsed, but he had forgotten all about it. Now, however, John knew that his man had made it home safe. He entered Carter's office and took a few moments to observe her.

Carter was busy typing something on her computer, mostly likely a report on the jumper accident. Regardless, she impressed him. Sam Carter was a scientist and a military officer. She was like McKay and John, himself, built into one. Only, Sam was kinder than what either McKay or John could achieve. She was a good person, John knew this, and also knew she was entirely capable of running the base. She was different that Elizabeth, of course, and John would always regard Elizabeth Weir as the true commander of Atlantis, but he welcomed Colonel Carter as well. She had proven herself in John's eyes, and that was enough for him.

"I just wanted you to know," John began, speaking before he was certain of what to say next. "I want you to know that I think you've done a good job. It's a hard one; I've had to fill the position only a couple of times myself. Too much paperwork," John added with a smirk.

"Look, I can't think of anything inspirational to say. It's just not my thing. Besides, I… I don't really know what advice I could give you. You're a good leader, you've already had experience at handling McKay, and Teyla will be nothing but helpful. That leaves Ronon, but I know he already respects you. You just gotta… you know, not take things personally with him. He's not one for emotion."

"I know you'll be fine with Lorne, and Dr. Keller… well, you've known her about as long as I have, and she seems like a likable person and great at what she does. So really, I guess I don't _need _to tell you anything."

John stood up and walked around the small room. He knew there were things he wanted to tell her, but he just didn't know what. It was like something was bursting to be said, he just couldn't figure out what it was. John glanced at the colonel and saw that she had stopped typing and was now gazing through her glass walls at the Stargate below.

"You worked with SG-1 for years," John said, running with the first thing that came to him. "You… you know what it's like to have close friends. Like, _family _close. I'm sure coming here was hard because you left your family and basically became the father of another, but… just… _integrate,_" John tried to explain. He wanted her to know that she was welcome here in Atlantis. She was welcome, and she was liked. That's all she needed to be a part of their family.

Bottom line, John needed to know that Colonel Carter was comfortable in her position and confident. If she wasn't, Atlantis would not be in the best possible hands. Elizabeth had always been confident in her choices, even when she knew they had the possibility of ending badly. The problem was, in the Pegasus Galaxy, so much was unexplored and unknown to the point that confidence and gut instincts were all you had. Elizabeth had come to understand that and now Carter needed to as well.

John knew she could do it, but _she _needed to know she could do it. That made all the difference.

"You've got this. You need to know that," John continued. "Trust yourself and trust the people that are here. You're going to fail some, but just, you know, pick yourself up and try something else. Learn from your mistakes."

John sighed and felt like he was doing this conversation injustice. He looked at Sam again and saw she was now looking at the 'gate technicians.

"I know you know this stuff," John said softly. "You've done this kind of thing for years. I just… wanted you to hear it." John laughed after he said this, realizing the irony of the statement. He was about to say something else when Carter perked up and tapped her ear piece.

"Dr. Keller. What is it?" she said calmly, but her eyes soon widened and she was then standing. "I'll be right there."

The urgency in her voice had John's heart speeding up. John had been unable to hear what Dr. Keller had said, and all he could think about was if something more had happened to McKay. And yet, there was a small part of him that was pushed aside in his worry for McKay that knew what was happening.

It was time.

**TBC...**

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**Emotional, yes? I hope I didn't lose too many people here... I am really going to try to post very soon, and the fact that the weekend is almost here makes it more probable. Believe me, I want this story over and done with as much as you guys do.. **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Okay so, I pretty much just freaked out for nothing. I thought I had lost this chapter and was beginning to wonder if that was a sign. You see, this is the chapter that I was most worried about. It's was puts the 'spiritual' in the category. Needless to say, it's a very sensitive subject so... eh, we'll see. I, personally, love this chapter. But I'm also a very spiritual person.. Ha, so I may be slightly biased. But I hope some of you like it too.

**Warning: **Again, spiritual subjects. I _am _Christian, however, I tried to leave it very open for interpretation. Otherwise, I don't think there's anything to worry about.

**Thanks: **To everyone who has read and reviewed!! And just know, I want to reply to you guys, but I'm getting home at like... 8 everynight because of Romeo and Juliet rehearsal, and then a ton of homework. I will do my very best to reply to you guys from now on. And of course, my _amazing _beta, **sandgnat.**

Ok, well, I'm worried about how you guys will take this, but here it is...

**In Between - IX**

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For the second time that day, John came barreling through the infirmary doors, half expecting to see nurses and Dr. Keller gathered around McKay's bed, yelling out commands and working frantically. But relief washed over him as John's eyes flew towards the scientist's bed and saw that the man was sleeping peacefully.

And then it hit him. John knew exactly what was happening before he even looked at his own body's bed. He turned his gaze to the bed in the corner and saw Dr. Keller and John's team standing around it, worried expressions on their faces. Though John was upset that they were so frightened, a new feeling was washing over him. A warm, enticing feeling that he had never felt before, but was thoroughly enjoying it now.

And as this wonderful new feeling that radiated from deep inside him grew, John's fear and desolation began to disappear. He walked calmly to his bed, and stood in between Ronon and Teyla, and didn't feel scared.

"I think it's time," he whispered to himself.

"What's happening?" Carter suddenly asked, alerting them all to her arrival.

"I'm not quite sure," Keller responded nervously, her eyes darting from machine to machine. "His brainwaves suggest he's coming out of his coma, but his vitals are all over the place."

"Well can you help him?"

"We're trying to keep him stable, but I have no idea what's going on," she replied almost helplessly. John knew that it had to be hard on a doctor when they had no idea what was going on with their patient. Furthermore, John knew that in this particular case, she would probably never know exactly what happened to John Sheppard because it went so far beyond the known practice of medicine.

It was time for John to cross over into whatever death held for him, and he knew that. A part of him longed for the others to know it and accept it just as John had managed to do, but he knew that, with time, they too would learn to accept and move on.

John felt that warmth radiate within him, and while he knew it was about time to leave this world, there were still a few things he needed to do. He turned first to Teyla, and looked into her eyes, careless of the fact that she did not return the favor.

"Teyla, you have been the only light we've had in so many dark situations," he began, letting the warm feeling inside of him do the talking. "You've taught me so much and now," he continued, glancing down at her swollen belly, "Now you will be able to teach him everything as well. You are going to be… a _great _mother. You've raised all of us so well," he added with a childish grin.

"And Ronon," John continued, turning his attention to the big guy. "You've given me what I thought I could only get from my dog." He then chuckled at this statement. "That sounds bad, but I've always held dogs in the highest regard. They're loyal and will stick by ya no matter what. That's you, buddy. Always there. And I expect to always be there for these guys," he added, gesturing around the infirmary. "They're just as worthy of your trust."

He took a deep breath and turned to Dr Keller, who was still frantically trying to figure out what was wrong with her patient.

"Gotta say, doc, you're filling some impossible shoes," he said quietly, his mind drifting to the late Carson Beckett. "I'm sure these guys are going to keep you busy, but you can handle it."

The feeling inside of him was becoming unbearably hard to ignore, but John had one last person to talk to. He left the small group that was gathered around his bed, and crossed over to where McKay was sleeping.

"I never would have expected the kind of friendship I got from you," he said, extra careful to keep his voice down as not to wake the sleeping man. He paused, not sure what to say next until his thoughts drifted over to what he was about to do.

John knew taking this first step should be the hardest part, but he was feeling surprisingly alright. In fact, as that warm feeling slowly grew stronger inside of him, it somehow managed to numb his fear and pain until John actually felt _comfortable_. A part of him wanted to stop everything he was doing and investigate this strange, enticing feeling, but he wasn't done. Not yet, but soon. Very soon.

"I'm not going to say goodbye," he announced to people who he knew couldn't hear him as he took his place between Rodney's and his own bed. "I just… I want you guys to know that I have never," John continued, still expecting this speech to become unbearably hard to make, but it never did. "I've never felt more at home. More _accepted_."

"If it's possible to feel where ever I'm going, I know I'm going to miss you guys like crazy, but you have all made my life worth living. I don't regret a second," John said truthfully, even as he thought back on things he would have changed in his past, people he had lost. Sure, he had been drenched with regret for years, but now, in the end, none of it mattered. John firmly believed that when all was said and done, everything caught up with you; bad people died with bad lives, and good people, no matter the journey that led to their death, would die happy. He believed good people would die knowing just how blessed they were and as John looked around the infirmary, he couldn't think of anyone else, on the earth and otherwise, that he would prefer to be here now.

As the feeling inside of him overtook him entirely, John Sheppard felt no pain, no regret and no worry. He was vaguely aware of machines beginning to wail on the other side of the infirmary and people rushing towards it, but his attention fell to the man on the infirmary bed. Rodney's eyes remained closed and he looked peaceful, something John was immensely thankful for. A part of him wished Rodney was awake so that he could apologize to the scientist, but more importantly, thank him. However, a more intelligent part of John knew the importance of Rodney remaining unconscious. John's departure would be the hardest on Rodney right now, but he was sure McKay would one day understand and, with time, would forgive John and move on.

"You're one of a kind, Rodney," John whispered with a small chuckle. "Thank you."

John finally turned away from McKay and glanced over at where his own body was located. The nurses and doctors now surrounded his body's bed, calling out orders and trying to stop the inevitable. John knew that he should be feeling sad or maybe even scared at the sight of his failing body, but he didn't. All was the way it should be and one day, his team, his _family, _would realize it too.

John closed his eyes as the feeling finally engulfed him. For what seemed like both milliseconds and an eternity, John could feel a warmth that he could only associate with the touch of his mother's hand; a feeling he had longed for with every fiber of his being since the third grade. He could feel her calling him home. It was everything he had ever wanted laid before him, he just had to take that one step…

oOo

_His eyes slowly drifted open, only to realize that he was unable to see against the blinding light. It didn't hurt; in fact, it warmed him and felt perfect against his skin. Eyes and skin: so he had a body, that was for sure, and man, did it feel amazing. Blissful, even. He felt young again and in perfect shape. If this was death, it wasn't so bad. A little bleak, perhaps, but at least it felt nice. _

_John had never really found his footing on the subject of religion, but a part of him had always hoped there really was a greater being watching over the universe and all of it's inhabitants; it was a comforting thought. Not to mention the possibility that in 'heaven' - or wherever one went after death - all the people John had lost over the years would be there waiting to see him again. He just wished that was the case now._

"_It's not your time, son," a voice John hadn't heard in over thirty years told him, making his heart both stop and speed up at the same time. He looked up, and amongst the blinding white light stood Marilyn Sheppard, just as he remembered her. _

"_Mom…," he whispered, unable to move, unable to think; mesmerized by the woman standing before him._

"_Yes, John, it is me," she spoke softly, her radiant smile everything he remembered it to be. "You must go back."_

_John frowned. "Go back? To my life, you mean?" he repeated, stunned. "No, I was meant to die. Meant to come here. With you…," He couldn't understand it. Couldn't see how he was supposed to live after being so sure he was meant to die. After coming here where everything felt so right._

_Marilyn smiled sadly. "No, Johnny, it was not your time," she repeated, coming to stand in front of her son. "The night of your accident, your body and soul was divided."_

_John became frustrated at this and suddenly felt like a young child again. "I know that already!" _

"_Yes, but you have been under the impression that your body was destined to die, and your soul wanted to remain with the living."_

_John stopped and considered her words. That had been his initial assumption, yes, but eventually, he had felt sure the only way to reattach his body and soul was to accept death and embrace it._

"_You were partially correct, John," his mother said as if she could hear his thoughts, and he briefly wondered if she could. "You see, you were never meant to die that night, but because you were so convinced your body was dragging you down, your heart did the only thing it knew to do and split your soul from the dead weight. However, when your soul detached itself in an attempt to keep you alive, it actually placed you in an existence where you could neither heal nor pass away._

"_Since you chose to accept the path you _thought_ your body was taking," his mother continued, "your body and soul have become one once more, even though it was a wrong assumption. It's the thought that counts," she added with an amused grin. "However, because you have accepted death so whole-heartedly, you now have a choice."_

"_A choice?" John echoed, looking into his mother's deep green eyes._

_A crooked smile formed on her face that reminded him of himself. "Technically, yes, you have a choice between life and death, but there is only one decision you can make."_

"_Kinda defeats the purpose of the word 'choice,' don't you think?"_

"_It does, but tell me, what do you think will happen if you leave Atlantis before your time?"_

_John frowned. "I'm guessing something pretty bad…?"_

"_Yes, John, something bad indeed," his mother laughed. "You are more important to this expedition - this _universe_ - than you may realize and should you choose not to return, the outcome would be catastrophic."_

_John sighed and did not answer right away. She was asking him to leave this warm, jubilant place that had no pain and return to Atlantis where pain was almost an every day thing. _

"_Ah, pain," Marilyn sighed as she turned away from her son and stared off into the unimaginable distance. "You've never been the best at dealing with it. The emotional kind, that is. The stuff that hurts in here," she said, her hand coming to lie over John's heart. _

"_And I know that you are subjected to more pain than is fair for one human being. But that's just the thing, Johnny," Marilyn continued, a strange sort of sadness in her voice. "That kind of pain keeps you going. It enables you to do things that most people would never even consider doing. Most are just as capable as you, of course, but they choose not to. You do, son. That quality has saved many lives, and _when_ you return, it will save many more."_

"_My pain is what saves peoples' lives?"_

"_No, John. It's _why _you feel the pain," she said, her eyes sparkling. "It's love. If you were incapable of love, then the pain would not be felt in such severity. What sets you apart from the majority is that your love extends further than just the people you know and care about. You care about all life, great or small, and you will always do everything in your power to keep them going. That, in the end, saves lives."_

_John bit his tongue. Her explanation sounded like one big riddle to him; something for the children's books, not for real life. On the other hand, it made sense even though John was unable to consider himself a hippie of sorts who loved everyone and everything. Despite the contradictions he felt, John accepted what his mother said and decided to move on to another issue that had been bothering him._

"_Okay, well explain this one: why was McKay the only one that could hear me?" John asked, a valid question but when it boiled down to it, John was just wanting to ask difficult questions in hopes of proving that this was real._

"_Because, he was the reason your soul fought nature so hard that ultimately resulted in the split," his mother explained. "As you may recall, he was by your side that night, begging you to hold on, to stay alive. Your soul, having listened to him, clung to life and managed to create a slight bond between the two of you."_

_She paused and looked into John's eyes and suddenly, the plethora of emotions he had felt since seeing his mom dwindled into just one indefinable feeling. _

"_You have to trust me, son."_

_John thought. Thought about his life, his semi-death, and the choice he had before him. He knew what his mom wanted him to do, and knew that the life and people he would leave behind would suffer if he chose to move on… and yet the thought of having to leave his mom again tore at him like a knife._

"_I have never left you, John."_

"_That's a cliché," he retorted sadly. _

"_A true one," she replied with a grin. "But at least now you know what waits for you when it really is your time."_

_John considered this and once again began to think. He thought of Teyla and her unborn child, of Ronon and how he had already lost so much of his family, and of McKay, who very rarely found anyone he could actually call family. John did not know what 'outcomes' his mom was referring to, but if they were bad enough to make her want him to leave, then it must be worth him returning. Furthermore, he trusted his mom with every molecule in his body._

"_I have to go back," he said finally._

_His mother smiled and nodded._

"_Will I forget all of this?" - A question to which he received another smile. "Fine, fine. Be all mysterious."_

_He paused then as he felt the same warm feeling growing inside of him, and knew it was about time to say goodbye to his mother. But it wasn't goodbye; not really._

"_I'll uh… I'll see you later then…?"_

"_Yes, you will," she replied, still smiling and looking so beautiful and proud. God, he missed her. "I love you, John."_

_John looked at her for the longest time, trying desperately to take in all of her that he could before he had to leave. And to his relief, she did not rush him, but just smiled lovingly back. _

"_Love you too," he said finally, knowing the time had come to return to Atlantis. To his home._

_John's eyes never left his mother's and even as that same warm feeling engulfed him in a blinding white light, the last thing he remembered seeing was the outline of her glowing face. _

**_TBC..._**

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So... what did ya think? Eh... I'm nervous, haha! Good news though, you guys can expect the final chapter this weekend. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **Wow, how reliable am I? I'm truly sorry about this, you guys. I hate being so... in consistent, but life has been throwing many curve balls. Like my brother showing up with his new girlfriend (who has a child) and telling us that he's getting married to her and wondering if they can all move in... so.. ha, I hope you can forgive me.

Otherwise, we made it! You guys have all been amazing. I know I've been a bad little author, but so many of you have stuck with me, and I really appreciate that.

**Thanks: **Again to all of you, and to the most wonderful beta ever, _sandgnat!! _Thank you, thank you!! All of you!

**Warning: **I'm not very good with endings. Sorry. :(

Finally...

**In Between - X**

* * *

It was a miraculous recovery, or so they told him. John Sheppard didn't remember anything about it. He didn't even remember waking up from his coma that first day. In fact, the first time he could recall waking up was apparently two days after he had come out of his coma and even that was three days ago. So much time had passed without him even knowing it; it was disconcerting to say the least.

He'd been in and out of it, the drugs toying with his mind so bad sometimes that he couldn't tell what was real and what was not; what was a memory, and what was his imagination. But lying in bed 24/7 gave John plenty of time to attempt to sort everything out. Not to mention his desire to remember anything about the day he was attacked or what had happened after he woke up.

All he could ever come up with, however, was not so much memories as feelings and quick flashes. Odd things that he couldn't quite explain, but knew they meant something. They had plagued him for the first day or two, but John had finally decided to put them in the back of his mind after considering the heavy medication he was on; memory was an unlikely luxury and what did come back to him would certainly need to be considered contaminated with the deliriums of a drugged man.

Luckily, John had not been alone in his silent sufferings and confusion; his team had been around since the beginning. In fact, John couldn't remember a moment when he was without at least one team member. Even when he woke up in the middle of the night when Ronon and Teyla were asleep in their own beds, McKay was there in the infirmary. Not so much by choice, as the scientist had landed himself in the infirmary as well, but he was still there.

John was fuzzy on the details as to why Rodney was in the infirmary not from lack of memory, but from everyone's ambiguous answers. No one had been able to give John a good, clear explanation as to why McKay was here, but John didn't really need them to explain it to him anyway.

But whatever McKay got himself into was old news. Rodney had been freed from the infirmary three days ago, though he hung around so much it was as though he never left at all.

"So you're bailing on me again?" John asked from his bed, putting on his best puppy dog face. It certainly didn't have its usual efficiency due to John's still very bruised and sore face.

"You're the one who got yourself beaten to a pulp. You asked for the long stay in the infirmary," McKay replied stiffly as he stood from his chair.

"Yeah? Well don't expect to get any of my pudding," John said, then winced when he tried to reposition himself.

"Want me to get Keller?" McKay asked quickly, his eyes wide.

John rolled his eyes. "No, McKay. I'm fine."

"Ah, here we go again. It's always the same with you. Here you are, black and blue and still being doped to the gills with drugs and what? _You're fine. __**Of course**_**, **you are, Colonel. How could I forget?"

"Stop with the dramatics, McKay. I say I'm fine because I am. Now, if I was on the battle field bleeding out with absolutely no possible way of stopping the bleeding in time and you asked me how I was doing…"

"You would _still _say you were fine. Don't give me that B.S.," McKay interrupted. "Besides, you would never admit there was no possibility of rescue even as you took you're last breath, so that was a trick situation anyway."

John chuckled tiredly and sighed. "I guess you're right. Although, I always end up being fine, so I really don't see why you are complaining so much."

"It's a matter of timing, Sheppard. When we ask, _"How are you, Colonel? Are you dying?'" _We would like the answer to reflect how you feel at the _moment_, not how you will feel eventually."

"Well, maybe you should start clarifying."

"Oh, believe me, I will."

"Fine," replied John nonchalantly.

"Fine," McKay said in a huff. Silence fell between them as the scientist began to put his shoes on. John watched him carefully and was pleased to see that he looked entirely refreshed and healthy. It made John feel much more comfortable not having to worry about his team.

"McKay," John started, letting his head fall to the side to see McKay better. His every molecule felt disgustingly heavy and the drugs certainly weren't helping him fight the ever growing lethargy.

"Yeah?" McKay replied without looking up.

"Why exactly were you here?" asked John. "In the infirmary?"

This got McKay's full attention and he soon locked eyes with John. He frowned, then shrugged.

"I had a hypoglycemic attack, from what I understand."

John raised his eyebrows. "_From what you understand?"_

"Yes. Yes, it was a hypoglycemic attack," Rodney huffed, rolling his eyes. "That's what Keller said."

"You don't seem so sure about it yourself," John said, watching the scientist with a great deal of curiosity. Rodney was getting annoyed, that was obvious, but John could also sense a certain amount of frustration. It was as if McKay was not answering John's question not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't.

"Maybe that's because I'm not," McKay snapped. "I mean, I know I had a hypoglycemic attack and I hit my head, but everything leading up to it… well, it's just really weird."

"Weird?"

"What's with all the questions?" McKay said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "I can't remember everything that happened, okay? The stuff I do remember - well, some of it just doesn't make sense. And then there were these dreams…"

John perked up at this, feeling the dull throb in the back of his head grow exponentially at the movement. "Dreams?"

John remembered some things himself. Things that were too far-fetched to be real, but too real to be discarded as nothing. He didn't remember much at all, but the few things he did remember, he remembered all too well. Like it had been real. Once again, considering his coma and the amount of drugs he had been on, to take anything literally would be foolish.

"What is it with you?" McKay grunted, straightening his shirt. "Are you seriously going to repeat everything I say with that dumb look on your face?"

John lowered his eyebrows and this and hoped his expression similar to his dad's infamous scolding look.

"Well, if looks could kill, I'd be in a lot of trouble," McKay said mockingly.

John sighed and looked away from the scientist, knowing a loss cause when he saw one. Whatever 'dreams' McKay was talking about had apparently rattled and confused him, enough to make him keep them to himself, especially if they went against science. In cases like those, McKay would consider himself crazy and never talk about them again.

But the fact that John wasn't the only one having problems with his memory somehow managed to ease his discomfort, even if it did nothing to take it away.

"So, Teyla and Ronon are still off world with Leland's team. They checked in a few hours ago when they were in between parties," McKay said with a roll of his eyes. "They keep asking about you, and I keep telling them you're fine. I mean, you're fine enough to bicker and badger me, so that should be good enough for them."

John smiled, thankful of the normalcy of McKay's rambling. He still couldn't get over the fact feeling that whatever McKay was hiding would somehow help John decipher his own tangled mess of memories.

"Has Keller updated you on how long you'll be a prisoner?"

John was pulled from his thoughts as he realized the question was addressed to him.

"Oh, yeah," he said absentmindedly. "Still got two weeks at least. Then there's physical therapy," he continued with a sigh. "Apparently several broken bones equals several grueling weeks."

"Again, you asked for it."

John considered arguing back, but the growing pain, especially in and around his abdomen, ultimately made fighting back not worth it.

"You okay there?"

"Yeah," John said, trying to shift in his bed to relieve the pressure on his back.

McKay grunted. "Why do I even ask you that? When will I learn?" He was now picking up a bag he had brought in, grabbing his hand-held and coffee cup. "I'm going to call Keller in here, even though you are _fine._"

"Wait, McKay," John said suddenly, surprising even himself. Something had been bothering him, and he had been telling himself to just let it go, but he just couldn't push it aside.

"Yeah?"

"Do you, uh, do you believe in an afterlife, or something like it?"

McKay's eyebrows lowered and looked taken aback. "Like,… heaven? You're not serious, are you?"

John scrunched up his face as he tried to find a better way to phrase it. It was getting hard to think straight due to rising pain and exhaustion.

"Not exactly. Doesn't have to be, anyway. Just any kind of afterlife."

McKay seemed to get the hint that this was a serious subject for John, and made an effort to not appear so judgmental. It was a start.

"Look, I know you're Mr. Scientific, but there's really no way to prove one way or another, is there? We can't talk to anyone who's experienced it…"

"Not necessarily true," Rodney said. "There have been many people who, for all intents and purposes, die, but come back to life. When asked about their experience, they have no recollection of anything at all, which would imply that there is nothing out there waiting for us," he said, his hand twirling towards the ceiling.

John yawned as the exhaustion demanded to be noticed, then winced as his jaw temporarily popped out of place, sending pain throughout the left side of his face. He blinked against the pain, knowing more drugs would be coming soon, then more sleep.

"What if… we're not supposed to remember," John countered. "Or maybe a part of us does remember, but our brains can't understand it?"

He didn't know why this was so important to him. It just was. It was something he, like every other human, had wondered about before, and given recent events and the oddest memories or dreams - or whatever they were - the idea of something more out there plagued him.

"First of all, you need some sleep," said McKay. "Secondly, I don't what's got you so stuck on this subject, but… I guess we don't know for _sure _what's out there. Just depends on how you look at life, I guess."

John was surprised by his response. Very rarely did McKay admit that science couldn't explain away everything, and the fact that he was doing so let John know there was something going on with McKay too.

John's eyes locked on the scientist's, and he looked back. For a moment, John knew that there was something McKay was hiding, and they somehow shared something now. He didn't know what it was, and didn't think McKay knew either, but there was something there; something unspoken and seemingly impossible to understand.

"I'm getting Keller," McKay said finally, breaking eye contact with John and looking away uncomfortably. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat and take a nap. I'll be back later to discuss some ideas I had for the jumpers."

John took a deep breath a nodded. Whatever had happened in the past week or so, it had affected them both, though neither understood how. And a part of John knew they never would.

He watched McKay walk over to Keller's office, then leave the infirmary.

"Colonel," Keller said warmly, "how you feeling? Any pain, nausea…?"

John shook his head slowly, regretting it as the dull pain became more pronounced. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the now blinding lights.

He heard Keller chuckle. "I see. You know, we're really going to have to work on your communication skills."

He then heard her call over her shoulder for what he knew was more pain medication. He hated the way the drugs made him feel, and yet the pain was beginning to get so bad.

"Colonel, listen to me," Dr. Keller said softly, then waited until John opened his eyes and looked at her. "You're in for a long recovery. I'm sure I don't need to tell just how close we came to losing you, and frankly, we should have. Your body was severely injured and in serious need of rest. And there's no way it's going to do that if your constantly battling pain. Now please, let the medicine do it's job. Let _us _do our job."

John saw her sincerity, and knew she was right. His injuries went a bit further than the normal broken ribs and/or a bullet wound. He was almost beaten to _death, _broken bones everywhere and internal bleeding. Besides, the worst of it was over, now he just had to recover.

John felt his IV shift slightly then felt the liquid entering his veins. Seconds later, the exhaustion became unbearable and he knew a deep sleep was just around the corner.

As the lights dimmed and his body became heavier, John recalled his dreams and flashes of memory. Knew there were answers to some of life's most interesting questions out there. And yet, he knew they were not for him to know.

Whatever happened in between the night he was attacked and the moment he woke from his coma would forever be a mystery, and as his body finally let go of consciousness, he decided it was better of that way.

Besides, what's life without a little mystery?

**End.**

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_wince. _You guys hate me? I'm not very good at endings and this is something I would like to explore further. However, as you can all see, things didn't quite go as planned with real life, and instead of trying to push this story a little further and make you guys suffer, I decided to end it as cleanly as possible, and leave the option to pick up later. Or have someone else pick it up, if they chose to. So.. I hope it was overall enjoyed, but either way, thank you all and it's been a pleasure!


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